Monsters
by phfina
Summary: Chapter 7: You know the funny thing about Irina? She thought she was being nice to me. She's a complete ass, but she made a real effort to say something 'nice' to me. And that just worked so well, didn't it? We're such buddies now! ... Please!
1. Antarctica

**Chapter summary:** "Rosalie Hale, you are a _good_ person!" Bella had mustered everything she could in telling me that as she drifted off to sleep in my arms. But she was wrong. On both counts. I'm not good. I'm not a person. I'm a ... monster.

**Setting:** Dartmouth, Whittemore Hall. Very early Thursday morning, November 9th, 2006.

**Story WARNING: **This chapter is a sweet trifle, but subject matters rapidly descend to the extremely graphic. I don't know if there's anything redemptive in here. This may be a bad read for you. But any story that has _Killing Fields_ in it as a backdrop? This story unabashedly goes way past "cringe inducing territory."

* * *

_Antarctica._

That was my thought as I held my sleeping Bella in my arms. We were in our favorite position. Okay, my favorite position, and since she was asleep, and since I was holding her, it was her favorite position, too. And the position? Me: wearing a slip, and her: all bundled up on her topside: wool sweater, scarf, pajama top, tee under that, and down below just her cotton panties.

But on top of all the clothing she was wearing, we had layers of blankets: a quilt her mother had made for her with her quilting bee club, a duvet, and a blanket, all piled on top of us.

And to what end? For, yes, there was a chill in the air, a coldness that Bella Swan from Phoenix, Arizona would have gone into shock from if she hadn't had the slight adjustment from Forks, Washington, but with all this covering her body she would have suffered from heat exhaustion and the strong possibility of death.

That is, if I weren't here, and holding her.

Because that's the only way she could sleep. At all.

Do you know how impossible that makes hunts for me? To come back to our dorm to have Bella dressed lightly, facing away from me in bed, pretending to be asleep, pretending not to have just been crying, crying all night?

And why? Because of her abandonment issues. I've told her, over and over again, that I wouldn't leave her, and as patiently as I could at that. But I totally understood her fears, particularly because some _asshole_ of a brother of mine takes her to the middle of the forest, tells her he's leaving her forever because, get this, _he doesn't love her,_ and just leaves her there to die.

So I have this mess to deal with, every time I leave her side, her asleep, to go on a hunt, and I come back hours later, hearing the quiet, gut-wrenching, sobs as I approach the dorm, and then the quiet gasps as she realizes I've returned and she tries to hide her sorrow, and tries to pretend to have been sleeping through the night.

But she can't hide anything from me: not the scent of her tears, not her rapidly fluttering heart, not the circles I see under her eyes the next day from lack of sleep, not the desperate jolt of relief as I slip into bed next to her, pretending along with her pretense.

But hunting during the day? With her begging me to take her with me onto my hunting grounds? With her trying desperately not to cling to my arm as I'm vibrating with the pain the emptiness inside that _must_ be filled calling me away from her? With her just waiting at the edge of the campus, just waiting there, just waiting for my return, and when I do return her utter failure at playing cool? _'Oh,'_ Bella just lights up when she sees me, like she's surprised that she would have ever seen me again. _ 'How did your hunt go, Rho... Rose?' _she tries to ask casually. 'Try' being the operative word.

Bella is just such a pain in the ass.

So, when I am with her, I am _with her._ And it's not enough that I'm in the same room, or on the same bed, no: she needs the physical contact. She needs the touch of my 'skin' against hers.

But this would cause problems ... eventually, because I would just suck the heat right out of her. Completely. Because no matter how much heat the human body generates, ... well, when you say vampires are monsters, do you know what you are saying?

A vampire takes, it doesn't give. We are cold because when we are not sucking your life from your body, we are sucking the heat from the very air. All the time. A vampire is colder than its surroundings. A vampire is Death.

Bella doesn't get this. No, Bella _refuses_ to get this, and she won't settle for my explanation, and she won't sleep without me holding her, even after I voiced my concerns about frostbite and hypothermia. And Bella is smart. _'It's all in the layering,'_ she says with that sage look in her eye.

I smirked at that image: _my sage little Bella._

So now she's bundled up like a research scientist in Antarctica, and now the only way she can live through tonight is if I hold her to me, my cool stone self being a heat sink, drawing the heat radiating from her.

Bella, my Sun.

And I'm holding her thus: my hand has snaked under her shirts and is cupping her little breast, and every few moments, I gently shift from one hot (now cooled) breast to the other hot breast, my arm sweeping across the fire that is her stomach.

My other hand and arm rest against her back, gently sweeping lightly, gently massaging her.

And when she cries out from her sleep I pull her whole body into me, and wrap my leg around her legs and whisper to her that I'm here. _'I'm here, Bella,' _I whisper right into her ear, and that settles her and she sighs with relief and returns to a deeper, restful sleep.

She sometimes, even now, cries out _'Edward, don't leave me!'_ and I do the same thing for her, even as she says this: I hold her to me and I whisper to her that I'm here and that I won't leave her, and I let her sleeping mind take what comfort it will.

I wasn't so generous the first time I heard her plead thus, because it was our first night, and ...

Well, I needed to destroy something, and it would have been Bella if Jasper wasn't there, talking with me, taunting me, being exactly what I needed him to be: _Edward Cullen._

Good thing Jasper was there, because I took out every last bit of hate I had bottled up against Edward I had held in me for the last seventy years, and the rage that I could barely contain these last two years. Well, 'good thing' for me and Bella. The looks I got from Alice as she worked on helping Jasper to reconstitute ... well, she sent me back to Bella who had wakened, and was calling out for _me — not Edward, ME! — _sensing my absence.

Alice and I had often had spats, and I had often been cool to her, but this was the first time that Alice was cool to me, and it was only for a few hours, and it took a great deal of effort from Alice to apologize to me for being angry with me, but it was a relief to see perky-Alice back, as much as I find it annoying, because cool-and-distant-Alice was just so jarring on the whole family.

But Bella wasn't sighing Edward's name tonight. She hadn't sighed his name in a while. No, she sighed _my_ name, and every time she did, although it sounds impossible, I loved her even more, even more desperately.

For I had been thinking about Antarctica tonight. For I had been thinking about The Plan.

And The Plan was to crash a chartered plane into the forests of Denali, but that plan had too many holes, because people would look for remains, and remains could be identified, and when they didn't find ours ...

So the plane would have to go down in water, but then with an egress point obviously used, it would have to go down in deep waters where the plane would be irrecoverable.

But what if the plan went a-rye? Best-laid plans tend to do that. Particularly for me. Particularly when Bella's involved.

And thinking that?

Well, Bella had done her homework and her chores, so I was rewarding her with a fuck. Just a tender fuck. Just a 'sweet and gentle' fuck, as Bella would call it, if she could ever bring herself to say the word 'fuck.' But then I thought of the plane going down, and Bella getting stuck somehow, under all that water, in a way where I couldn't rescue her in time, like a piece of the fuselage slicing her in half as the plane went down. And then I thought of that, looking at the two halves of Bella, her top half and her bottom half, drifting away lazily in the current, her dead, staring, senseless eyes frozen in the confusion of her last moment, looking lifelessly at me.

And that's when, when I realized, again, that at any moment, she would be lost to me forever, that's when the fuck got serious and desperate. And needy. And very, very demanding.

_'Whew!' _Bella had sighed, staring up at the ceiling, utterly exhausted. _'That was ... something ...'_

_'Did I hurt you?' _I turned from the mirror and looked at her with concern, my brush stopped in its stroke, half-way down my hair.

_'Hurt me?' _Bella asked surprised, then she became thoughtful. _'No, ... it's just that you were all sweet and gentle and then you got really, really, you know, intense!'_

I could feel the heat of Bella's blush from across our room.

I smiled wanly at her, and returned to looking into my mirror, brushing my hair.

Bella watched me for a moment.

_'You're in front of that mirror a lot,' _she observed.

I hummed a non-committal agreement as I looked at myself. My eyes weren't pitch black, but they were starting to become noticeable, for anybody who wished to notice. I'd have to hunt soon, in the next day or two.

Which means I'd have to tell Bella. Which means Bella would immediately send me off, push me away, politely demand that I go, all the while with her little hummingbird heart beating as to burst. All the while the strain trickling into her voice.

Joy.

_'What do you see in the mirror, Rosalie?'_ Bella pleaded.

_'Noth-...'_ I began, but then I stopped and looked at Bella apologetically.

I was going to say, _'Nothing,'_ for that was indeed my answer, and was entirely accurate, if I were to look at myself as void.

Which I do.

But it was an answer that would start another long, pointless argument, with the only possible outcome sadness and anger on both sides, and Bella really needed to sleep, particularly after this long, grueling day.

Well, a 'long, grueling day' for a college student who particularly would find death preferable to being called to the front of the class, as she was today.

_'Myself,'_ I answered her, smiling lightly for her sake, turning back to the mirror and staring back at the monster with the empty eyes staring unwaveringly back at me. _'I see myself, Bella.'_

_'You must really like yourself a lot, then,'_ Bella chuckled at her little poke, but then my lips twitching wistfully upward silenced her laughter, and I felt the thoughts whirling around in that head of hers and I felt her thoughts starting to coalesce into concern, so I turned on her and waved my brush at her as a fencer would wave an _épée _at his sparring partner_._

_'You,'_ I commanded her, _'need to get to sleep now!'_

Bella had smiled warmly at me. _'Okay,'_ she acquiesced easily to me, as she always did.

And then her eyes got big and pleading, and she begged a whispered, _'Sleep with me?'_

I felt it incumbent upon myself _not_ to remind her that vampires don't sleep.

So I merely murmured an _'of course' _that succeeded in putting a huge smile on her face. I pulled out her winter-wear — or is it more accurate to call these clothes _'Rosalie-wear'?_ — and helped my exhausted and turned into jello Bella get into her night clothes.

We had learned, from lots of experience, to do her night toilet _before_ the sex. Brushing teeth seemed a monumental task for a girl whose arms I had turned to rubber. But I still gave her a glass of water, and still made her use the potty now.

Her, getting up at three of the clock in the morning, rushing to the bathroom and on the way, tripping in the dark and cracking her head open? Unacceptable. She could do that now (excepting the tripping and bashing head open part), grumbling notwithstanding.

We settled back into bed, and Bella hummed with contented pleasure and my arms found themselves on her skin, gently caressing it.

After a moment, Bella asked tentatively, _'What are you thinking?'_

I sighed with exasperation and growled a petulant, _'Nothing!'_ knowing this was a trigger word for her.

Can't a girl be thinking of nothing? Particularly when she's annoyed at her girlfriend getting all curious about what she's thinking about, which is _not_ that image of her leagues under the sea, sliced in half and dead?

Bella herself sighed in response and said, _'I wish you would tell me, Rose. Even when you're beating yourself up, you know?'_

_'Bella,'_ I tried to explain patiently, _'I'm really thinking of nothing now, okay?'_

Bella was quiet for a long while, then she said sadly, _'I wish you were here with me.'_

I snapped. _'Bella, I __am__ here with you now, okay?'_

_'Yeah,'_ Bella acknowledged, but didn't agree, _'but I wish you were here when you're here.'_

_'Oh, for goodness sake!'_ I muttered annoyed.

_'Oh!'_ she exclaimed.

A lightbulb went off in Bella's thoughts, for I felt the physical change in her when she has these sudden, profound realizations.

I wondered, idly, what this one would be.

_'Now I see,'_ she said, then paused for a second and ventured a Bella-brave, which for most people would sound timid: _'Do you need to go now and, you know, hunt?'_

I smiled and kissed Bella's rich hair. She always had to care, it was her nature.

_'Not tonight, sweetie, ...'_ I said, but since she did offer, I felt that this was the best time to tell her, _'but I do have to go in the next day or two, okay?'_

_'Um,' _Bella ventured, _'why not tonight? You're hurting; go. Go now.'_

Bella knew more about me than I did sometimes, it was very shocking to hear her, a human, intuit the almost physical pain I felt when the thirst gripped me.

_'No, sweetie,'_ I said, grateful for her offer, _'not tonight.'_

_'Why not?' _She queried, her voice filled with relief, but also with curiosity.

_'Because, ...'_ I began, but then the voice caught in my throat for a second. _'Because I can't stand leaving you now, not tonight, okay? I just want to hold you tonight, please?'_

Bella was quiet for a second, then she snuggled into me more, almost purring.

_'Okay,'_ she agreed easily this time, _'but you go tomorrow, you hear me?'_

I smiled. My bossy little Bella. _'Okay,'_ I agreed easily right back.

_'Tomorrow,'_ she demanded.

_'Tomorrow,'_ I averred.

_'Rosalie,' _Bella sighed contentedly, _'I ... you are ... that is, I ...'_

Bella was quiet for a moment. I had learned over time to let her stumble over her words when she felt she was saying something significant. Pushing her along only slowed her down or clammed her up.

_'You are a good person, Rosalie Hale,'_ Bella said.

I was quiet.

Bella sighed.

I held her, gently caressing her back.

_'I wish you would hear me when I say that to you,'_ Bella whispered sadly.

_'I did hear you, Bella,'_ I answered as quietly.

_'Yeah,' _Bella said, _'but I wish you would believe me.'_

I rested my chin on her shoulder, just breathing in her glorious scent, and letting her breathe in mine.

I finally whispered: _'I don't deserve you, Bella Swan.'_

_'Hey,'_ Bella complained faintly, _'no stealing my lines!'_

I snorted lightly. _'What did I tell you about you getting to sleep?'_ I warned.

_'Okay, okay,'_ Bella groused, tiredly, but then added, _'one of these days I'm gonna convince you that you're beautiful.'_

_'Bella, you crazy girl,'_ I scoffed. _'I've been on the cover of _Vogue, _everybody knows I'm the most beautiful person in the world!'_

I didn't add the words _'after you, Bella'_ because we didn't need to restart that argument tonight.

Bella thinks I have self-esteem issues? She's wrong. I don't have self-esteem issues: I'm merely a realist. It's _Bella_ who has the esteem issues, not me.

_'Yeah, but ...' —_ Why does Bella always have to add a 'but' to her 'yeah's? — _'do you see yourself as beautiful when you look at yourself in the mirror?'_

I felt a jolt stiffen my body as her words washed over me. I pressed my lips together ... hard. Bella had seen right through me and had looked beyond what others saw as vanity to see me, looking at me, looking into my empty eyes to see that pitch-black soul I thought I could hide from everybody.

_'Uh-huh,'_ Bella confirmed to herself and shifted slightly, nestling into me a bit more. _'So, yeah, so one day you are gonna hear me and know that I'm telling you the truth, and I'm gonna keep telling you that until you do hear me.' _Then she paused for a second, and added a self-satisfied, _'so there!'_

I growled lightly, but pleasantly. Challenge me, will she? She may know she's going up against Rosalie Hale, but she often forgets Rosalie Hale never loses

I put my own dig in. _'And this coming from a girl with her own issues around her own beauty and self-worth?'_

Bella shrugged. She was absolutely convinced she wasn't even pretty, never mind beautiful, and her self-effacement she took much too far and did that much too often.

_'Yeah, well,' _she said resignedly, but then she stopped.

I could complete her sentence for her: she believed I am a good person, which is entirely ludicrous, and that she is an 'ugly duckling' not a 'beautiful Swan.'

How ridiculous!

I blew out a long, long sigh. If I could pound into that stubborn little head of hers the way everybody sees her but herself, I would have by now.

But I knew I wasn't going to succeed in this mission tonight.

_'Sleep, sweetie,'_ I said softly, one more time.

I felt Bella's smile.

_'I love you, Rose,'_ she said quietly.

_'I love you, Bella,' _I responded from my very being.

Bella's smile remained as she herself drifted into sleep.

* * *

**Chapter End Notes:**

[1] Rosalie finds herself on the cover of _Vogue_ and finds many other interesting things in my story _Clubbing._


	2. Killing Fields

**Chapter summary:** "Miss Swan, please remain after class." What is it with college professors these days? All Bella did was answer the question. With analysis. And citations. Yes, I'm her tutor. Of course. Did I mention Bella's going to be valedictorian?

* * *

_Antarctica._

I thought this word.

I was thinking this word, because ... well, we loved the Denali sisters, and they loved us, and we're like cousins. Distant cousins. Of two very dysfunctional families.

I had thought the Olympian coven, or the Cullens, were a messed up little group until we had recently lived a couple of years with the Denali coven.

We parted on (very) amicable terms, but Edward wasn't the only one visibly relieved to be viewing Denali in the rear-view mirror.

And this time, they even played nicely, making no moves to snatch away him or the other men.

Well, not overtly, anyway.

But existing for one-thousand years, as each of the three sisters have? They went about the business of being what they were subtly and discreetly.

Discreet succubae. Wonderful.

So the plan was to get Bella away from humanity for her first year or two until she could control herself and be among humans again without going on a berserk feeding frenzy. But being with the Denali coven, just myself and Bella? Trying to control her and train her into our abstaining ways and always be there helping her to discipline herself? And then those looks from the Slovakian Triplets?

I just knew, somewhere along the line, a word would be ... slipped in there, to bait me and my lifestyle choices. And I just knew my reaction. Already. You come at me, even with an, _'oh, how ... interesting that __you're__ looking after Bella! ... And how is that ... 'going' for you, Rosalie?'_ snide little remark, and I will give it right back to you.

In spades.

And so we would have to leave. They wouldn't ask us to go. They would 'understand' and be so 'understanding' and so 'tolerant' at my outburst and so ... _fucking superior and condescending!_

So we would have to leave. But where would we go that's unpeopled?

Antarctica, of course, right?

But when we get there, Bella and I, after days ... and days and days and days ... of us _not_ feeding off emperor penguins (they are an endangered species, after all), but the seals and orca, days of that? And Bella going mad with that disgusting, unvarying taste, and with my every reasonable and patient explanations that this is how it will be, forever? But sometimes even worse when we drain a herbivore?

Antarctica is peopled, you know. There are research stations and outposts. And I can just see it, one day, Bella will ... well, she won't snap, but she'll say, _'no more! No more of this, Rosalie!'_ or she'll be rising from the water after another kill and there, right there will be a couple of scientists observing the swimming habits of the penguins, and there, right there will be Bella Swan, mermaid, angel, goddess ... vampire.

Death.

And once she starts, how is she to stop? She'll start taking out outposts. Then she'll take out the rescue teams sent after communications are lost, then she start going for the base camps, then ...

Then it will be an international incident with worldwide coverage. I can see the headlines now: _"79th Scientist Disappears in Ice Queen's Embrace!"_

And with the headline, a burry picture of Bella carrying off her next hapless victim, an ecstatic smile plastered across her face: a heavenly being flashing in the harsh Antarctic sunlight.

And 'Ice Queen' was supposed to be my title. It would be again after the Volturi make an (extremely) southern visit to clean up the latest mess.

_Antarctica is not safe._ I sigh with regret.

But if not there, the most desolate place in the world, then where?

It's all a matter of training the will. But Bella Swan has absolutely no will. None whatsoever. Do you know how she walks when we go from class to class? She walks slightly behind me.

And do you know why?

She walks slightly behind me so that if somebody calls out to us, she can try to hide behind my back so she won't have to participate in the conversation.

Do you know how she eats in the cafeteria? She wouldn't if she had her way. She wants to take food back to our dorm room and eat there, just her and me, she says.

I put my foot down at that. _'Bella,' _I huff, _'this is your last chance to eat food and be among people, so ... BE AMONG PEOPLE!'_

And _still_ I have to drag her through the line and drag her to a table with other people sitting there! And what does she say while eating?

Yes, you guessed it: nothing. She talks a lot with her eyes, following each conversation.

Or that's her excuse, anyway.

Do you know how she sits at her desk in her classes? With her hair covering her face, staring down at her books and notebook so she won't get called on in class.

Drives me _crazy!_

Oh, the irony of it! Me, the darling of Rochester's first circles in society, constantly hosting balls and assemblies, ever and entirely at ease, no matter in which company I found myself with, to be stuck with this girl who doesn't want to be the fly on the wall, because that's too conspicuous, no: she wants to be the _wall_. Or the floor, by the way she lets people walk all over her.

Well, today in class I couldn't stand it anymore. Professor Dietrich asked for impressions about the chapter we were supposed to have read from the _Killing Fields._

Of course the usuals raised their hands. Of course Bella didn't.

So as Professor Dietrich tiredly asked for more hands, I poked the small of Bella's back.

Gently.

_'Hey, ow!'_ she whipped her head around and complained to me, then turned white(r) when she saw everybody, including the professor, staring at her.

_'Um,'_ she offered helplessly to the sea of eyes on her.

_'Do you have something to contribute to the class today, Miss Swan?'_ Professor Dietrich smiled with pleasure, latching on her next victim for the infamous Professor Dietrich grilling.

Bella gulped audibly and started to shake her head no.

Professor Dietrich's beckoning hand stopped Bella cold. Bella got up from her seat, her head hung low and shuffled up to the front of the classroom.

It looked like she was going up to the gallows.

The sparring commenced, with Professor Dietrich grilling Bella on the events of the chapter. Bella, of course, shined here. Of course, she did. After all, she had the best tutor in the world: _me!_ And also the hardest taskmaster (actually, _taskmistress)_ in the world on top of that. Guess who?

Yes, me, again.

We could see the professor was impressed. Bella's analysis wasn't the parroting of a college freshman, it was an in-depth review of a post-doc or newspaper book critic.

So, Professor Dietrich challenged Bella a bit: _'What did you think of the evisceration of the captured student as described in today's reading?'_

Bella straightened up a bit. _'Actually,'_ she said, warming to the topic, _'the word "evisceration" is accurate to describe what was actually going on.'_

_'Yes,'_ Professor Dietrich prompted, _'how so?'_

_'Well, ...'_ Bella began. Professor Dietrich winced, she wasn't used to Bella's equivocating 'well's. _'Some buddhists texts point to the belief that a person's being, or their essence, is reposed in the liver, so when the soldiers fry that man's liver in front of him, killing him, they also show him that they are killing him forever by eating his being in front of him: he's got no shot at reincarnation, no chance for Nirvana, which is worse than them just killing him, and since "evisceration," besides "cutting up," means "to destroy the essence of" ...'_

Bella trailed off when she saw the flabbergasted look on Professor Dietrich's face.

_'How do you know this?' _Professor Dietrich tried to recover.

_'Um, ...'_ Bella stuttered and looked away, blushing.

_'That detail wasn't described in the book, ...' _Professor Dietrich chided.

Bella blushed harder.

_'And I haven't seen this in any analyses nor cliff notes or internet blurbs, so how do you come by this bit of knowledge that I've never heard or read about before?'_

_'Well,' _Bella stuttered, _'I sort of have been doing my own research ... ? With, sort of ...' _Bella glanced toward my general direction but then stared hard at the floor right in front of her and continued, _'a, you know, a c-c-coach or mentor k-k-kinda guiding or — you know? — recommending additional reading material — you know? — t-to supplement the assignment, sin-since I read all the books for this course three times already ... now ... you know?'_

There was silence for a second as Professor Dietrich eyes tried to bore holes into Bella's skull, trying to tease out the thoughts of this now formidable foe masquerading as a shy freshman. Bella's eyes, meanwhile, tried to bore holes into the floor boards. She couldn't stand the thought of anybody else feeling inadequate. She wanted others to shine, including her teacher who was trying and failing so miserably in her attempt to belittle Bella.

_'A coach. A coach for a freshman lit class,'_ Professor Dietrich stated this fact dispassionately, coolly. _'And,'_ she added, _'a 4.0 average up to this point with zero in-class participation. And I can see why. You hold things close to your chest, don't you? What are you hiding behind that quiet demeanor of yours, Miss Swan?'_

_'Um, nothing?'_ Bella tried desperately to shrink into herself, but having the complete reverse effect that the more she tried to hide within herself, the more intrigued the professor became.

At the same time, an amazing thing was going on in the classroom. The students were beginning to grasp the that almighty Professor Dietrich was surprised at something she didn't know, and that a student was the one who was showing her up in her intended and usual grilling.

There were looks, and a susurration of student voices. One, very clearly to my ears from that Samantha who had been eying both Bella and me, was: _'Fucking home schoolers; so fucking superior with their "oh, doesn't everybody do that?" Always fucking blowing the curve. What? I bet she skipped six grades or something. Jailbait! Brainiac!' _I shot her a death glare, but she was lost in her own reflection, looking at Bella, first with disgust, but then her look changed to be speculative and she added: _'Geek-girl does look kinda fuckable, though ...'_

I was about to lean over an provide some helpful information to this Samantha how she could extend her life beyond today, primarily along the lines of her leaving us alone or leaving the country or both, but then the bell rang. The students were scrambling to go as Professor Dietrich shouted homework for the next class over the cacophony of the bustle of the students' rapid departure.

Bella tried to make a break for her desk and the door.

_'Miss Swan!'_ Professor Dietrich's voice froze Bella in her tracks.

Professor Dietrich smiled predatorily.

Professor Dietrich was one of _those_ college professors. Smug that she knew everything, shocked when she found out, from a student, that she didn't, then on the acquisition trail of that person, either using them up: chewing every last bit of knowledge and life from that hapless student who had one shining moment of glory _or_ becoming their agent, confidante, friend, lover, supporter, making the student shine all the more brightly and basking in the glow.

I hesitated, a microsecond, but I couldn't stay in the room without making it so much worse for Bella adding fuel to an already explosive situation, and I was pretty sure Professor Dietrich wasn't going to kill Bella, and I was positive I could be back in the classroom and show Professor Dietrich, experientially, what 'evisceration' meant if she did or said one untoward thing at Bella.

I had to exit, but I looked toward Bella, shaking in her sneakers, and tried to give her a look of encouragement.

That's really hard to do when the looked-upon one is staring, hard, at the floor.

Well, I wanted her to be strong, and right here was a test of her strength, by fire. I posted myself outside the classroom by the door, out of sight of Professor Dietrich, who was facing away from the door, looking at Bella speculatively.

_'Miss Swan, ...' _she purred, her voiced filled with delicious anticipation.

I growled, turning to rip the door off the hinge so that I could visit a terror on Professor Dietrich so absolute she'd pursue a new career direction: like spinning llama wool in South America.

_'Hey,'_ a girl's indolent voice interrupted my hand reaching for the door knob.

_Damn it, witnesses!_

I turned to look at the interloper.

It was that Samantha.

* * *

**Chapter End Notes:**

[1] _Killing Fields,_ Christopher Hudson, Dell pub., 1984, p. 230 describes a scene not to be read by the squeamish.


	3. Certified Fresh

**Chapter summary:** Okay, I have a question. Why do people voluntarily put themselves on my list? Here's a hint and a half: you don't want to die agonizingly by my hands? Well, then, leave me _and Bella _the fuck alone!

* * *

Samantha stood in front of me, assuming a casual, co-conspiratorial air.

_'So,'_ she said, as people of this era do, not introducing herself by name, instantly and arrogantly assuming a camaraderie that didn't exist.

I looked at this interloper, communicating with my look that anywhere else in the world was a much safer place for her to at this moment.

She didn't get it, the blockhead. Or what term did they use these days to describe such people?

_'So,'_ Samantha said easily, _'that's your roommate, right? She looks, ahem,'_ she cleared her throat, _'a little young to be in college. It must be really hard for you — huh? — having to baby sit and everything, right? Does she like cry for her mommy every night or something? "Oh, Rose, Oh, Rose, boo-hoo!"'_

Samantha chuckled easily.

_'Just kidding,'_ she said, not meaning these words, just as nobody in the world ever means these words when they say them.

I hated this girl in front of me.

I _hated _her.

Partly because of the easy way which she assumed so much and so much of it wrongly, but mostly because her sweet, feminine voice was distracting me from the details of what Professor Dietrich was outlining for Bella to do. It sounded like she was slavering over Bella to start her Ph.D. thesis now over which Professor Dietrich _herself_ would guide and preside — oh, the presumption of that woman ... guiding _my Bella? —_ or do a bonus project for additional college credits or something. All the while trying to wheedle out the source of Bella's mastery over the material.

_'So, um, ...'_ Samantha said into my intense listening of the classroom beyond the closed door, _'roomie gotta a bf ...' _Here Samantha paused significantly and wiggled her eyebrows, _'... or somethin'-somethin'?'_

I glared at Samantha, refusing to understand the _patois _children these days used to obfuscate real communication.

_'What?'_ I asked coldly. If Samantha and I had been outside, standing by the banks of the Connecticut River, my voice would have frozen the river solid.

Predictably this hint went right over Samantha's head, being so wrapped up in her own world. People never listen: they never have and they never will.

Except Bella, and look where that got her? So entirely outside the world of humanity that she was now caught up in this fantastic _sur-reality _where she's a hair's breath away from death, every day, whether she's aware of it (sometimes she knows) or not.

If you are of Samantha's blissful self-absorbed ignorance, like, and this pains me to admit this, I was when I was alive and human, I'll be plain with you: this is not a good thing.

_'Oh, c'mon!'_ continued the blissfully self-absorbed and unaware human, _'You know! Like, I could like, you know she seems always to be studying in her room or whatever, I could like, give her a break from all those boring books and stuff, let her experience some real life, you know?' _Samantha paused significantly, then added: _'Just her and me for some extra-extracurricular activities, you know?'_

Now I understood Samantha's intent. I cannot say my understanding brought me any pleasure, or patience for that matter.

I didn't know my tone could get colder, so it didn't. I very calmly and clearly stated for Miss Blockhead of the hennaed hair, _'She's not your type.'_

_'What?'_ Samantha looked confused. _'She's breathing, right? And it looks like ... you know, that, well, she may be book-smart and stuff, but, you know, ...'_ Here Samantha cleared her throat again, _'but she could use some ... education in more areas in her life besides school, you know?'_

I actually smiled at this bold girl in front of me. I began to admire her tenacity.

_'And you're the one to provide this educational experience for her?' _I asked derisively.

_''Course! I'm the expert when it comes to experience,'_ Samantha crowed, then paused and smiled, _'or experiences, as the cases may be!' _and the added helpfully: _'Lotsa 'em!'_

Samantha bounced a bit on her heels.

I rolled my eyes, there was something uncomfortably likable about the irrepressible youthful zest of this human.

I suppose I'd save her own Rosalie-evisceration for her for a bit later, then.

_'I'll pass on your ...'_ I felt my eyebrows draw together as I thought of an appropriate word for the occasion, _'offer to her.'_

_'Great!' _Samantha enthused, but then stopped short. _'Hey, she's not jailbait, is she? Sixteen'll get you twenty, ya know! I mean if she's even that. Like, what? She's not twelve, is she?'_

I sighed.

_'So!'_ There was just no stopping this human. _'I gotta a free period coming up now, and it looks like roomie's gonna be busy for some time in there with Prof. TightAss. So, ya wanna do some study time, ya know? Like, go to the library and ... study? There's some ... books back at the stacks I was interested in looking at.'_

The stacks_._ The infamous library stacks. Oh, the histories recorded back there with amorous couples engaging in their exploits! It was impossible for me to read at all in the library, because all hours, day and night, the silent — for humans — gropings and sighings and sometimes even more than that going on there, and then the frantic scrambling and hiding as the librarian did the patrol back there on the hour every hour.

There seemed to be a tacit agreement between the library staff and the members of the student body that just _had_ to do additional research, 'looking up' obscure references in books disintegrating back in the stacks: _we have to do our patrols and we'll do then right on the hour and you don't get caught, getting both you and us in trouble and causing no end of paperwork to file._

They should just put up booths with red neon signage — "Occupied" — and be done with it.

But I just couldn't believe it. Samantha was now propositioning me, right on the heels of her trying to get at _my Bella!_

I narrowed my eyes at this girl. Maybe her evisceration couldn't wait, after all.

But then I had another thought. I could tell her to piss off, but sometimes being forceful only brought forth a forceful response, and there were only so many bodies I could hide (and I was very good at hiding bodies, after all, I had to help Emmett cover up the evidence of his mistakes) before the hue and cry was raised, and in Dartmouth, a sleepy college town? All it would take would be one for pandemonium to reign supreme, right along with administrative and media attention.

Nothing like a sensational title like 'Panthery Girl Gone Missing!' to sell newspaper.

I reevaluated my strategy and my natural impulse just to blow this girl out of the water. Perhaps a bit of subtlty and not misdirection but redirection would be the better course here with this girl.

_'Actually,'_ I said cautiously, and Samantha brightened right up, 'checking me out' and liking very much what she saw, but my follow-up surprised her, _'I understand that Chris girl was going to the library to study now.'_

_'So?'_ Samantha asked, disappointed. _'She's not interested. I already checked.'_

Yes, Samantha did, but she mistook Chris' deflection as disinterest, not shock at the up-front proposition from the asker and the extreme shyness of the hearer. Chris was also, I was given to understand, _inexperienced._

Vampire hearing is very, very helpful for monitoring intents.

_'You may wish to check again,'_ I said easily, now warming to this game, _'Chris has since heard some stories about this "Samantha the Pantha" and the blushes she blushed as she was told them?'_

_'Really?'_ Samantha's interest suddenly reignited.

_'Yes, rea-...'_ I began, but Samantha was already in motion.

_'Srygottarun!'_ Samantha voice seemed to red-shift as she sped away.

_'Samantha!'_ I barked.

_'WHAT!'_ Samantha halted and turned back to me, annoyed. The panther didn't like being stopped in her hunt, it appeared.

I shook my head at her single-mindedness of purpose. _'This would be Chris' first time.'_

_'Honey,' _Samantha called back pompously, _'until they've had me, it's every girl's first time!'_

_'No, Samantha, this really is Chris' first time, boy or girl.'_

That gave Samantha pause.

_'Oh!'_ she said surprised. _'Oh, her real first time! Well, then,'_ she continued thoughtfully, _'hm, gotta play this one right. Yeah. Warm her up to me. Be cool, yeah, take it easy on her, yeah! Be, like, yeah, kinda sweet and stuff. Yeah, don't rush it, yeah, and ...'_

Her voice trailed off as she headed off toward the library.

_That ought to keep Samantha off our backs!_ I thought with a smug, self-satisfied air.

Until I heard panting from a panther charging at me full tilt.

Samantha stopped in front of me, breathing heavily.

_'Did she ...'_ Samantha panted a few times, trying to catch her breath. _'Did she say or mention anything about if she had __any__ experience at all yet, even from herself, since you know so much of everything, there, Miss Captain-of-the-cheerleading-squad?'_

I didn't bother to correct Samantha on my non-existent extracurricular activities.

Well, I actually did have extracurricular activities, some by the campus administrative staff would approve of, such as tutoring (a) freshman, and others ... well, others that weren't any of their business at all to approve or not.

_'No,' _I said simply.

_'"No" as in "no she didn't mention," or "no" as in "no she doesn't masturbate"?' _Samantha asked for clarification in that very direct way of speaking that's hers.

Samantha is quick when something's of interest to her.

_'Samantha ...'_ I said chidingly. Talking about other's sexual activities? Have the people of this decade no shame?

_'Aw, c'mon, tell me!'_ Samantha pleaded.

I relented, ... a little bit. I was enjoying teasing this easy target a bit, but I also had to get her and her distracting voice away from the source of sounds that really interested me.

_'So what do you think the answer is about a girl who blushes so tellingly and says, "um, I think I'll do 'Dare' instead" at the mention of "So when did you start doing it?" in a game of Truth or Dare at her new sorority?'_

Samantha's eyes shone. _'You mean,'_ she gasped, _'she could be a real cherry? Do those even exist in college now? I mean, like, she could be somebody I could, you know, teach, and train, and mold, and cuddle with, and ... wow!'_

Samantha headed out, more slowly, planning and scheming how to get this 'certified fresh' girl, as she called Chris, all for her very own to take and to make that girl her very own.

Samantha, 'the panther,' indeed!

The door to the classroom opened with a bang.

Bella came out, as white as me.

_'... And I'll expect your answer by the end of our next class, Miss Swan!' _came Professor Dietrich's authoritative bark before she turned back to her notes for her upcoming class.

_'I think I'm gonna be sick,' _Bella gasped out to me quietly and desperately before her eyes rolled up into her head and she collapsed onto the ground, out cold.

I looked at the sack of potatoes on the hallway floor in front of me that was just a moment ago Bella Swan, the Great Challenger of Professor Dietrich's Self-Satisfaction, and I looked over at Professor Dietrich back in the classroom, totally oblivious, buried in her work, and I was torn: do I shred this woman now?

I sighed, and I added Professor Dietrich to my list — you know: 'The List'? — choosing instead to get Bella out of there before anybody other than me noticed and dialed 911.

I did _not_ need Charlie _nor_ the Cullens moving out here to watch over Bella and her oh-so-frail health.

Chaperones just so cramp my style.

* * *

**Authoress note:**

Okay, I'm ... well, there's been some back and forth with this story, with ffn taking it down and putting it back up at least five times that I could count on Sunday, and I have no idea why this has been happening, because although this story _is_ rated 'M,' there's nothing here (yet) that I think is objectionable enough to warrant it, or me, being banned. So I've sent ffn an email each time this story has been removed by them, and each time I've sent an email, it's been put back up. On top of that, I'm ... well, I'm just not in the mood. Or, more accurately, I'm rather very moody right now, and most of those moods are _'irritated'_ or _'snippy' _(hint: note the third to last word in the chapter proper) ... girls, IYKWIM, and boys, just leave it alone, please. But I've been (trying to be) civil with ffn — _honest! —_ and it appears for the last day the story's been up, so I'm sorry for any inconvenience you've suffered, my dear readers, when you've tried to access a story that's been made unavailable, and I thank you for your patience during this rather confusing roller coaster ride for me and this story.

My little voice: _'Paranoid much, 'phfina?'_

Me, to my little voice: _'Oh, please just shut the fuck up!'_

Yes, I'm toppy, even to my little voice. And, _sigh,_ yes, I have conversations with the little voice inside my head. Lots of conversations. Problems with that?

I'm sorry. I did say I'm rather on edge. I promise, promise-promise-promise, to be nice and generous with my cookies to my dear reviewers, as I try always to be, okay?

Um ... yeah. So there's that. But I think, well, anyway, for the past day I think the story's been up the whole time, so I think we're back in the clear, but if you are unable to access this story, you can always ask ffn what the deal is, because although I've taken down profile entries that I chicken out of sharing, I've yet to take down a story, and I have no plans to take down this one.

FYI and kisses for all of you, my lovely and beloved readers (which, if you didn't know, applies to all of you and to you — yes, _you personally!_ — reading this a/n).


	4. Fun

**Chapter summary: **"Cutting class? Ooh, what fun! So, what are we going to do now?" Bella asks incredulously. Yes, indeed, Bella, what are we going to do now?

* * *

_'I think you should do it, Bella.'_

Bella looked at me in shock. She was propped up in a sitting position on our bed. Her mouth hung open for a second, then she gasped out an _'Okay, ... WHAT?'_

_'I think you take Professor Dietrich's offer and do the project,'_ I clarified.

_'But I don't want to!' _Bella whined.

_'And that's why you should do it,'_ I countered primly.

Bella tsked angrily and then waved her hand up-and-down toward me in an air-clearing motion. _'Am I talking to a brick wall here?'_ she asked incredulously.

Actually, it would be more correct for her to say _marble_ wall, as brick was entirely the wrong consistency. I didn't think it appropriate to correct Bella on this particular point at this juncture.

_'Bella,'_ I said, and gave her 'the look.'

Bella pouted, turning her head away from me and crossed her arms. _'Hmmphf!'_ she snorted angrily.

_'What was that for?'_ I demanded.

Bella muttered something garbled but of an unhappy nature.

_'I'm sorry, Bella,'_ I said gently scolding her, _'I didn't hear that.'_

Bella stewed for a second, then she turned back to me, pointing an accusing index finger.

_'Don't think I'm not onto you, Rosalie Hale,'_ she said forcefully now. _'I know what you're doing! You're going to use those magic powers of yours and say, "Now, Bella," and be all reasonable and __make__ me do it, even though I said I didn't want to. Well, this time it's not gonna work, and that's it!'_

She recrossed her arms and looked away petulantly.

My mouth moved to speak. But then I stopped myself. I knew exactly what I was going to say. I was going to say that nobody could make her do anything, but those were fighting words, weren't they? Because then she would disagree using some hyperbole of hers which would probably set me off and we'd end up by just getting into a fight with ill-will on both sides until one of us caved with a request for rapprochement (I believe that's euphemistic for what people these days call 'sympathy sex'), which would be ... rather nice but wouldn't advance the relationship or her any at all, it would just be _status quo_ (again: 'same-old, same-old'). And instead of getting her to do what would be good for her to do and something that she would eventually revel in, my words would just polarize the situation more, making her hold fast to a position that was actually the opposite of what she really wanted.

After all, she loved this: she loved reading, she loved discovery, she loved excelling, she loved truly standing apart from the rest of her peers, no: the rest of humanity, and a project designed just for her? She would love this, ... if she just got over own stubbornness.

I sighed and shook my head, since when did I sign up to be everybody's diplomat to reasonability?

So I did something I've never done (willingly) before. I relented.

_'Okay,'_ I said to Bella.

Bella blinked, looking at me, then blinked again.

_'"Okay"?'_ she asked cautiously.

I nodded. _'Yes,'_ I said, _'okay.'_

Even more caution entered her voice. _'What does that mean: "okay"? Does that mean, "okay, but ..."?'_

_'No,' _I clarified, _'that means "okay."'_

_'Rosalie,'_ Bella said slowly, _'I just disagreed with you.'_

_'Yes,'_ I said.

_'And ...'_ Bella paused, thinking what to say.

She looked stymied.

_'And ...?'_ I prompted.

_'And, and ...'_ Bella threw up her hands in exasperation. _'Well!'_ she huffed, _'I'm not doing what you want! Doesn't that bother you?'_

_'No, Bella,'_ I said calmly and then clarified, _'besides, what you aren't doing is Professor Dietrich's project, that's very different from what I want for you.'_

_'What do you want for me?'_ she queried shyly after she had absorbed with I said.

I smiled at her. _'I want your happiness, Bella. That's what I want for you: your happiness.'_

_'Ah, ha!' _Bella pounced right on that. _'See! I knew it, and for me to be happy, I have to do that wicked prof of the west's project! I knew you'd twist this around!'_

I pressed my lips together firmly, but my smile still twitched my lips upward. I tilted my head slightly to one side giving Bella a quizzical look, as if looking at a third grader who had told me that 'oh, I know my "timeses"! one times one is two!' with such delight you don't know whether to correct their mistake or to applaud their enthusiasm.

I paused long enough to let Bella fidget, becoming uncertain again in that I didn't react immediately to her baited statement.

_'Sweetie,'_ I said slowly, _'there's no twisting of anything. Whether you do this project or don't do this project, I just want you to be happy. That's all I want for you.'_

I shrugged. Looking at her, and I felt the sadness fill me as I smiled at my true love.

_'I love you, Bella, and I want you to be happy.' _I felt so far from her in this moment. _'That's all.'_

Bella looked at me, her adam's apple bobbing, a look of surprise on her face.

_'Um, ... wow!'_ She breathed out.

My lips twitched upward.

_'You want me to be happy?'_ she dared to ask.

I nodded my head _yes_.

_'And you're not going to fight me on this?'_

I shook my head _no_, slowly, keeping my eyes on her.

From the bed, Bella opened her arms to me, so I went to the bed, kicked off my shoes, and snuggled into her embrace, keeping the sheets between us.

Bella kissed my shoulder and sighed contentedly.

After a quiet moment, Bella's tiny voice ventured forth: _'Can I tell you why I don't want to do her project?'_

_Do NOT THINK about smiling, Rosalie!_ I chanted to myself.

_Don't think about smiling. Don't think about smiling. Don't think about smiling!_

_'Okay,'_ I said quietly. That was all I could manage, for if I added 'if you want to,' I just knew the smile would creep into my voice and then the game would be up.

For, you see, humans have this thing called a will. And it's a weak, little thing compare to what vampires have. Bella has this thing called a will, too ... somewhere. I know it has manifested itself at times. I know she's put her foot down at times ... sometimes.

Please don't ask me when, thank you.

And the thing about the human will is this: humans forcefully declare that they won't do something they ought, or they will do something they oughtn't.

And that would be fine ... if they stopped there.

But they don't. They have to justify. They have to elicit agreement. They have to explain.

And by doing so, they talk themselves right back into the thing they swore they wouldn't do.

_'Well,' _said Bella, _'it's just this. I mean, it's like she has this huge grandiose plan, but it's like this huge project over and above what I have to do in class already and what kind of credit am I going to get for it? Nothing! I'm just going to have it published in an article in some hoity-toity academic lit journal and then __she's__ going to present it at a conference or something, for goodness sake!'_

_'So,'_ I said slowly, _'this journal, do they take articles from undergrads?'_

_'No! And that's what kills me!'_ Bella complained bitterly. _'It's like this quarterly publication where professors write self-congratulatory articles to read out to other professors and grad students defending their theses in these yearly symposiums. So I do all the work, and then the article is "by" her and I just get an "also with" or whatever they do to say, "Oh, I'm letting this little nobody ride on my coattails."'_

Bella paused, pondering her words, then spat out: _'The nerve!'_

_Ah!_ I thought. Professor Dietrich was either going for tenure or already tenured. Didn't really matter. In academe, particularly in the Ivy League (of which Dartmouth College was included), the battle cry of the faculty is _'Publish or Perish!'_ Those going for tenure needed to cite their publications to weigh into the tenuring decision. Those tenured continued to publish, partly out of the love of doing it and partly to impress themselves and others with their intellectual dexterity.

_'So,'_ I said again slowly, _'you'd do all the work of this article and get a coauthorship with a professor in the Ivy League, so somebody perhaps well-known in the community ...'_

I didn't ask how well-known Bella was in the community. That, indeed, would be a moot question, and a rather mean one.

_'Yeah,'_ Bella admitted grudgingly, _'but ...'_ — and there always had to be a 'but,' didn't there? — _'I'd still have to do all the work, and she'll probably make me rewrite it, like fifteen times, so that it says exactly what she wants it to say, so why doesn't she just write it herself, anyway?'_

_'There is that,'_ I agreed easily. _'You would be doing all the work ... and all the research, so it's possible you'll come up with some material she may not have been privy to ...'_

_'Oh, come on, Rosalie!' _Bella exclaimed. _'You're in her class! So you know she's like three-hundred years old! How likely is it that there's anything I'll come up with that she doesn't know already!'_

Professor Dietrich looked to be about Charlie's age, which would put her in her forties. So, not quite three hundred years of age, by my estimation ... not, in fact, even half my age. On top of that, it was obvious that, like Bella, this woman worked out, she didn't give herself over the the junk-food generation; contrarily, she was athletic: fit and trim. But for a girl Bella's age, looking at a woman her father's age, that would be classified as 'old.' I let this pass. I also didn't bother to bring me into the comparison either: Bella didn't mean to attack me or my age, because, well, I don't have 'an age' anymore.

But Bella's logic did have a flaw: she thought, being young, she had nothing she could say to that 'old person' Professor Dietrich, where, in fact that was what got Professor Dietrich's interest in the first place.

_'Like today?'_ I probed.

Bella's quiet was petulant.

_'That got you this project offer?'_ I continued.

_'That I'm not going to do, remember?'_ Bella shot right back.

_'Yes, I remember,'_ I said easily.

_'Good,'_ Bella snarled her little kitten snarl.

I sighed and hugged her to me, and started purring myself, sending out calming waves to her. Bella sighed contentedly and snuggled into my embrace.

After a moment, Bella shifted a bit and said cautiously, _'Um, Rosalie, lunch break is over, ...'_

_'Yes,'_ I said, fully aware of the time.

_'Well,'_ she continued, _'hadn't we be getting ready for class?'_

I held her for a moment.

_'Bella,'_ I said, _'I have a question for you ...'_

I felt her stiffen a bit in my arms.

_'Yeah?'_ she asked as her little heart went _thump-thump-thump._

I paused for a moment, stroking her arm, allowing the thoughtful silence compose her a bit. Then I asked my question.

_'Do I work you too hard?'_ I asked quietly.

Bella thought this over for a moment, then asked back in a puzzled voice, _'How so?'_

_'You said earlier that Professor Dietrich's project would double your work for that course,' _I explained, _'but how much to you think I push you to study as compared to the other students?'_

_'Well, ...'_ Bella mulled over it slowly, and then finally admitted, _'some of the other students are pretty banzai about their grades ...'_

_'As "banzai" as I am about your grades?'_ I asked.

_'Well, I suppose there could be a few of them, I guess ...'_ Bella answered uncertainly.

I didn't entirely agree with her assessment. Certainly there were many students dedicated to getting good grades and to being the best, after all Dartmouth is an Ivy League school, and there are some who are properly self-motivated and in the game for the long-haul from the get-go. But how many of them have my experience? ... or, more correctly, as Samantha the panther states, 'experiences'? I've graduated Dartmouth before, a couple of generations ago, and know what it takes to be the best, so not only do I make Bella study hard, I also make her study well. And, as dedicated as others are, again it's the question of the will, and mine is unwavering. Day after day, Bella is studying — studying hard and well.

And that is what gives rise to my concern ... which Bella has caught wind of. Her small voice asked timorously, _'Why do you ask, Rosalie?'_

_Yes,_ I thought to myself, _why do I ask?_

_'Well,'_ I said finally, _'I'm concerned that maybe I've been pushing you too hard. I mean,'_ I clarified, _'it's like you rise to ...'_ I paused. _'I mean, I'm proud of you, and everth-...'_

Bella gave me a little squeeze. _'Just tell me what you're thinking, Rosalie, huh?'_

I thought for a moment. How to put this so I don't hurt her pride or her feelings?

_'Don't overthink it, either,'_ Bella scolded.

I sighed, then blurted out, _'It's just that ...'_ but then I couldn't go on.

Bella turned to look at me curiously, then a small smile crept onto her lips.

_'Yes, Miss Hale, what have you got to say to me?'_

She blinked twice.

I couldn't believe it, ... was she play-acting with me? I tested the waters, just to be sure, falling into her game: _'You know what I have got to say to you!'_

Bella sighed in mock-exasperation, but I could hear the pleasure underneath it.

She tried to sound as harsh as she could, she even rolled her eyes. _'Yes, but you don't say it,' _she confirmed, impishly.

I growled at her, but I couldn't help smiling back. _'Why, you little minx, quoting Oscar Wilde to me, of all people!'_ I exclaimed.

Bella chuckled. _'Well, Rose, I had to do something! Everything was just so serious!'_

_'Do you see me as always serious?' _I asked, suddenly serious.

_'Yes,'_ Bella answered right away.

_'Really?'_ I demanded.

_'Yes, really,'_ Bella said.

She put my head on my shoulder and added: _'You're always so purposeful, Rosalie. I mean, everything's always on schedule, and then, well, okay, like even when we, you know, ... okay, make love ...'_

Bella's blush. I don't even need to see it to know it's happening. I felt the heat of it; I felt her swallow shyly.

Bella pressed on. _'Even when we do that, it's like oh-so-serious! And it's like you're always up to important things.'_

_'Because I am always up to important things, Bella,'_ I said, more than a bit put out.

It felt strange and uncomfortable, Bella's insight. She didn't say it harshly or judgmentally, but I felt it cut too close to the bone, as all her insights seem unerringly to do. Seeing myself this way? Who would want to be with such a driven individual? I wonder how I hadn't driven Bella away from me?

_'Why, Rosalie?'_ Bella asked sadly.

_'Because,' _I began hotly, _'nobody else will ever take anything on! And then these things'll slip through the cracks and ...'_

_'And what?'_ she interrupted.

I felt the anger swell in me, but I visibly quelled it, closing my eyes for a second and pressing my lips together. I tried not to blame Bella for my anger, but it would be so easy to do: her very existence and the way she is caused all this trouble we've had this last half-decade.

_'Because,'_ I said, calmly, collecting myself, _'when these things get ignored, people die, and then the Volturi come and __more__ people die.'_

Bella was quiet for a moment, taking this in.

_'Okay,'_ she said thoughtfully.

I waited. It sounded like she had more to say than just 'okay.'

She didn't disappoint. _'But, okay, Rosalie, here's the thing, we're eighteen year old girls ...'_ Then she quickly corrected herself. _'Oops, I'm nineteen now ... shoot!'_ She sounded angered at this, but then continued. _'What I mean is, okay, you can say you're like all old and wise and stuff so you have to be all serious, but you know, we're two teenagers in college, and ... you know? ... it's like, okay, Rosalie, we can have fun, too, you know? ...'_

_'Bella, I have fun with you!'_ I countered.

I don't know how you'd take it, but if somebody came up to you and told you, 'you just can't have fun'? Isn't that the most damaging accusation in the world to hear? I mean, if is somebody is a mass murderer but they are charming, they are somehow better accepted than a dour person with no faults or defects of character.

Who did Marian fall madly in love with in _Sense and Sensibility?_ The 'old, decrepit' Colonel Brandon 'whom everybody speaks well of, ... and nobody remembers to talk to' or the wild, impetuous rake Mr. Willoughby?

'You just can't have fun'?

I resisted taking in those words but then still hit me, hard.

_'When?'_ Bella demanded.

_'Bella,'_ I tsked, _'just now! When we were role-playing Mr. Worthing and Gwendolen Fairfax, that was fun.'_

_'Yes,' _Bella agreed seriously, _'and wasn't it fun, having fun?'_

I bit off my retort. It's a good thing I didn't bite off my tongue.

_'I just wish we could do that more often, is all,'_ Bella whispered this more to herself than to me.

I paused a moment and took in what she said.

_'We're going to be late for class,' _Bella said into the silence.

I didn't need to look at the clock to know that we already were late for class.

I didn't care. I cared about only one thing, and she was beside me, sitting up in bed, in my arms.

_'So you're saying fun is something that's lacking in your life?' _I asked Bella.

_'Well, ...'_ Bella said.

_'And I'm not giving it to you?'_ I added.

_'No,'_ Bella answered quickly. _'No, Rosalie, don't go there, it's just that ...'_

_'It's just that you haven't had any fun in the last few years, have you, Bella, with all this drama in your life, and now you're in college, and everybody else is partying and in frats and sororities, ... except u-... except you.'_

I was going to say 'except us' ... but I don't know if there was an 'us' anymore, being as Bella has no fun with me.

_'No, Rosalie,' _Bella said firmly, _'it's not that at all!'_

_'Isn't it?'_ I pressed.

_'Well, ...'_ Bella said again.

_'Hm,' _I said, then nodded my head. I felt my lips twist regretfully.

And the thought slipped in, unbidden, like an assassin's blade into my side: _Congratulations, Rosalie Hale, you've managed to fuck up another person's life._

I have two lists, actually: one of them is a list of people I'm going to deal with. Royce and his buddies were on that list, and Professor Dietrich is the most recent addition. That list isn't very long, because I deal with those names rather quickly.

No, it's not (only) 'the people I'm going to kill, slowly and painfully,' but 'people I have issues with.'

And, yes, okay? It's a really, really short list. Most people in the world I don't have issues with, because they simply don't exist for me, living their meaningless lives in their inane pursuits. The other people, I tell off or ... well.

Alice finds herself on this list. Often. And finds herself _off_ the list often, too: we meet at a nice, safe, public place, like a Starbucks, where we can hash out our differences without it turning into a two-week tiff, and then we're friends and sisters again.

Now the other list ...

The other list I don't share with anybody. It's just for me. It's my list of shame, and it's the list of people's lives who are (much) worse off because of me ... simply because I exist.

Right at the top of my list: my parents.

I surely fucked up what they worked so hard at, didn't I? They worked, so hard, all their lives, to scratch their way to the top and to move in the first circles, and as soon as I could do anything, it was like right after I came out, what did I do? I just so royally did everything wrong in my engagement to Royce that my father promptly died of shame and my mother had to raise my much younger twin brothers right through the worst part of the Great Depression darning socks just to keep them all alive.

From shirt sleeves to shirt sleeves in one generation: my mother, impoverished, my family, destitute ... because of me. Because I refused to look beyond my own petty pride, I refused to manage myself _and Royce_ and allowed his base nature, encouraged by drink, rule the situation.

Who rules the house? The woman rules the house.

But she has to rule herself and her own selfish pride and vanity first.

And I didn't do that. And how many lives were destroyed in consequence?

And then there's Vera. I could have been more than just a friend who supported her decision to marry down. I could've done something, mentioned something to Royce, perhaps, so they could have had a leg up and moved out of cheapside, them having little Henry, just so happy in their poverty?

And then Emmett ... having him turned and then seeing, during his change that he was falling for me, his 'Angel' ... but could I return that adoration? No, I knew I couldn't. So I cursed a man to pine for eternity, because I was needy: I needed somebody in my life after Edward's rejection of me, and so I didn't destroy Emmett when I saw this change take hold of him.

And now Bella.

I held the girl in question, and I wondered how her life would be if she had never come to Forks. Never met Edward. And then, eventually, never had ended up with me.

It would be happy. There would be fun. And ... family.

Bella shifted a bit.

_'I just realized something,'_ she said.

She had just realized this, too: she would be happy ... without me.

_'What did you just realize, Bella?' _I breathed out.

_'I've realized that ... well, you said I haven't had fun in college? Well, looking back, I realized that I've never had fun. Not in high school, and before that ... well, I've been with my mom and I don't know when I realized it ... maybe I was five ... but I realized that I had to take care of her. Can you believe that? I was five years old, and I realized I had to ... well, be the mom in my family ... and ...'_

Bella was quiet for a moment.

She held onto me a little bit tighter.

_'And you've always been so serious, and then you get ... I mean, __really__ serious, and I feel like I have to take care of you, you know?'_

_'Bella,'_ I said, shaking my head with disbelief — she thought she had to care for _me?_ — _'I can take care of myself ...'_

_'Except when you think I'm going to leave you, right?'_

My throat seized.

Bella continued: _'Except when you think you should leave me, right? ... like you think from time to time, right ...'_

Then she said: _'... like you're thinking now?'_

I stroked Bella's arm slowly. I couldn't look at her.

_'Why do you want to leave me all the time, Rosalie?'_ she asked sadly.

I wanted to scream, to beg, that I don't want to leave her all the time, that I love her.

But my voice answered her something different.

It answered her the truth: _'Because I'm no good for you.'_

_'And yet you stay ... you force yourself to stay. Why?' _Bella demanded. _'I mean, thank you, but if you're no good for me, why do you stay with me?'_

_'Because,'_ I said sadly, _'I saw what it did to you when Edward left you. We all saw it, at the airport when you came back from Italy. You looked like a survivor from a concentration camp, Bella, and I know if I left you ...'_

_And I know that if I left you, I'd kill you. So I'm just waiting for what happened with Edward, for you to leave me like you left him when you realize this, for you to find somebody, somebody human whom you really love and who really loves you, and you can be happy and have babies and ... be happy._

I looked at the thought, so visceral, so present, so real, and marveled that I didn't have the strength to voice it.

_And vampires have such strong wills, don't we, Rosalie Hale?_

It was quiet.

_'What do you want for me, Rosalie Hale?'_ Bella asked seriously.

I responded instantly. _'Your happiness,'_ I said firmly.

_'And you're bad for me,'_ Bella stated.

I stroked Bella's arm.

_'You know,'_ she offered, _'you've really got to get off this self-loathing kick. You are so not goth, and having two emo girls in a relationship is just such a big mess.'_

_'Bella Swan, ...' _I sighed. She's always just so full of surprises.

_'That's my name,' _she said, cheering up, sensing the improvement in my mood.

I gave her a side-arm hug.

_'About the "emo girl" appellation ...'_ I interjected delicately.

_'Um, yeah?'_ Bella asked, suddenly cautious again.

_'Why did you faint outside of Dr. Dietrich's classroom?'_

Bella was quiet for a second.

_'She said,'_ she said, _'that you wouldn't be proud of me if I didn't do the project.'_

I had to give credit to Professor Dietrich, she was surprisingly insightful for someone I saw as a self-satisfied and egocentric tyrant. And I thought I had hidden what I felt for Bella, that we had hidden our relationship from all of Dartmouth, too.

_'Bella,'_ I scolded, _'you __know__ that could never be the case, don't you?'_

_'That's what I told her,' _Bella said quickly, but then she paused and said hesitantly, _'but then, ... when I told her that ... then ...'_

_'"How can Rosalie be proud of me when I'm not proud of myself?" Is that what you said to yourself?' _I framed the question for Bella.

Bella rested her head on my shoulder again. _'Yeah,'_ she said regretfully.

_'Bella,'_ I sighed, _'you really need to see yourself as I see you.'_

Bella was quiet for a moment.

_'You do, too,'_ Bella told me quietly.

I smiled. _'Whew, this conversation is all rather serious.'_

_'And not very fun,' _Bella added.

_'Sometimes,'_ I said slowly, _'things have to be said or done that aren't very fun.'_

Bella thought a moment. _'Yeah,'_ she said, not agreeing, _'but not all the time, huh?'_

I nodded. _'Okay, well,'_ I offered, _'let's do something different, then.'_

_'Like what?'_ Bella said interestedly.

_'Let's take the rest of the day off.'_

_'But what about classes?'_ Bella asked worriedly.

_'We can cut them,' _I countered easily.

Bella thought a moment. _'Homework?'_

_'Who needs it?'_ I said.

Bella hesitated, then: _'Chores?'_

_'I've got them tonight,'_ I said.

_'Even mine?'_ she dared.

_'Even yours, you silly girl!'_ I said playfully.

_'Wow!'_ Bella exclaimed. _'Rosalie Hale doing my chores tonight! Stop the presses!'_

I smiled.

And we held each other in quiet.

After a moment Bella became fidgety.

_'So what do we do?'_ Bella asked.

_'Anything you want, Bella, what do teens do during the day when they are cutting classes?'_

I could feel Bella's brow pulling together in concentration. Eventually she said, _'I actually don't know. We could veg and watch TV ... if somebody didn't cut the cable.'_

That 'somebody' would be me. I saw no reason for television. It seemed as more channels became available there was actually less content worth watching.

Religion being the opiate of the masses? Karl Marx would say something different in this day and age, if he had seen the television.

I shrugged.

_'We could read ...'_ Bella offered, disinterestedly.

_'Yes, we could,'_ I answered.

Bella sighed, capitulating. _'Okay, let's go to class.'_

I arose from the bed and got our books for the afternoon classes.

Bella was shaking her head as she got up from bed.

_'What?' _I asked her.

_'You must be so disappointed with me,'_ she said regretfully. _'I can't even skip class and play bad girl for two seconds. I'm just so boring.'_

I actually burst out laughing. Bella? _Boring?_ Now that was funny.

I recovered quickly and put my hand on her cheek. I felt her face burn with her blush so I looked away and swallowed quickly.

I looked back at my Bella. _'Bella,'_ I smiled, _'you are such a sweetie!'_

_'A boring sweetie,'_ Bella sighed.

I took my hand from her cheek. I felt my smile become sad.

Bella saw it.

_'Bella,'_ I said. _'This is what this is.'_

Bella looked at me. She waited.

_'This is what it is to be a vampire. All the time. Because that's all you have: time. So, just now, you have to generate from within yourself interest. At 3 a.m. when all the humans are asleep, and you are not, you have to find something to do with yourself. One hundred years later, you have to be taking the same American Lit class with a teacher just like Professor Dietrich, hearing the same lessons again, already knowing all the words of all the books you've read, and you have to find a way to still be here, still be present, and still find something to just keep going, to keep going, forever.'_

Bella grimaced. _'It always has to be a teaching moment, doesn't it, Rosalie?'_

_'No, Bella, it doesn't always have to be a teaching moment, but here, right here,'_ I waved at the bed we had just come from, _'is what it is, forever, and right in that moment, you got it all. It's not glamorous, Bella, being a vampire: it's boring. It's mind-numbingly boring. Forever.'_

Bella sighed. _'Let's go to class.'_

My lips quivered in its sad smile. I opened the door for Bella, and we started our trek to our afternoon class which we were very late for.

Bella asked for her books.

_'No, Bella, after a fainting?' _I denied. _'Just walking to class is all you can manage right now.'_

_'But people will see you're carrying my books!'_ Bella complained.

_'And?'_ I countered.

_'What will they think?'_ she whined.

I looked at my Bella, my opposite. How much do I care what people think? _Hm, let me think about that, _I thought sarcastically. I really didn't need to think over this, for I knew my thoughts already. I could care less what people think. But for Bella, it mattered the world to her what she thought what people thought.

As if what people thought mattered at all.

It didn't matter to me what people thought when I was alive. I was still the belle of Rochester and the most beautiful girl in the world. Were people jealous? Of course! Did I care? Of course not! Why would I care about those beneath me?

And when I was dead ... well, when I am now, eternally, dead ... what do people thoughts matter to me? It won't change my state any. I'm still dead.

I looked at Bella, masking my impatience, but my retort was cut off, as we had reached the classroom.

Bella stammered out an apology for both of us to the Professor, the class and to the whole world. I simply went to my desk and sat down.

Bella went to hers, and I passed her her books.

People looked. Bella blushed.

And the class proceeded along its dreary course. Which class was it? History? Spanish? Math?

I didn't particularly care. Bella did. She was engaged in the coursework, interested, challenged, delighted to be learning.

I watched her the whole time: a hawk watching a field mouse.

...

After classes, Bella did do her homework. Then she even, after supper, did her chores. I tried to offer to do them for her, as I had promised her, but she had this guilty look on her face as I started washing the dishes, so she nudged me aside, and we did her chores together.

And afterward...

Well, afterward is now. Now we are back to now, because afterward, we made love, and then I clung to my still-living and -breathing Bella, not the disastrous image of my cold, dead Bella in an airplane wreckage fathoms under the sea.

And afterward is now. And now here I am, generating my continued existence as she sleeps, and now I have to deal with myself, and my thoughts, as I hold my Bella in my arms, breathing her in, holding her, keeping her cool ... loving her.

My Bella. My boring, sweet, smart, shy, brave little Bella.

* * *

**Chapter End Notes:**

[1] Mr. 'Earnest' Worthing proposes marriage to Miss Fairfax in their 'you know what I have to say to you'-'Yes, but you don't say it' exchange in the Oscar Wilde's play the_ Importance of Being Earnest._

[2] I'm not so sure, at the beginning of this chapter, that Rosalie would be so enthusiastic about this collaboration for Bella with Professor Dietrich if Rosalie were aware of the professor may have been thinking of the 'prospects' of the project as revealed in the one-shot "What She Said."

[3] "But, 'phfina, women don't have adam's apples, only men do!"

Okay, you made me do it! You made me look at all that pr0n again circling all those girls adam's apples and making me mutter to myself: _'Self, WTF is she talking about?'_

NO! I MEAN ... I DIDN'T MEAN 'pr0n'! I meant 'look up the wikipedia article'! That's what I meant, I meant 'wikipedia article'! And here's what it says (looking again at the Elizabeth Swann pr0n (aka thin little hotty Keira Knightley, ... and did I meet her at a Mensan meeting? *_dream-dream*_) for confirmation) under _laryngeal prominence:_

"The laryngeal prominence—commonly known as the Adam's Apple—is a feature of the human neck. [...] A prominent laryngeal prominence is commonly considered a male secondary sex characteristic, but women can also develop a prominent laryngeal prominence."

Girls, please, before you tell me this-or-that that you _know_ to be true and that you _know_ I got wrong, could you do me a favor and look it up, just to double check, like, maybe, I do, all the time?

_And when I am wrong!_ (which is often) _I will sing you the 'I'm Sorry'_ song _and give you a cookie, too!_

And do make a suggested correction when point out errors: saying 'you're wrong' even very nicely is all well-and-good for you, but how can I fix it if you don't tell me what fix to use.

"'phfina, don't say 'her adam's apple bobbed' as girls don't have adam's apples, say instead, 'I could see her swallowing a few times in sadness,' okay, honeybee?"

Besides, hands up, girls: how many of you have kissed and licked and sucked and nibbled on your lover's adam's apple? Sexy as all-get-out! I mean, not that ...

*blush* *sigh* *another-blush* 'T'-rating for the end notes, 'phfina, mind the 'T'-rating for the end notes!


	5. Be Me

**Chapter warning: **You, my dear reader, are going to have to do something alien to you: to understand the rest of this story, you are going to have to be me ... you may not wish to understand the rest of this story.

* * *

I'm going to have to ask you to do something. I'm going to have to ask you to be something that you have no possibility of understanding from your frame of reference. So I'm going to have to ask you to be a vampire in the throes of thirst.

I'm going to have to ask you to be me.

What I'm going to tell you now won't make any sense if you are thinking of it as a human, for you'll cry _how cruel!_ or _how bizarre!_ or_ how ..._ whatever, but you'll be judging it as a human judges things, trying to understanding it as a human understands, and from that perspective nothing I say will make sense.

In which case you will put up your defenses, you'll raise your barriers, you'll run away, and then you will miss it. You will miss what I will tell you, and if you miss this, you miss everything.

Just like Bella. Just like the girl I hold in my arms, keeping her cool with my coldness, keeping her alive, even though I am very, very dead.

Bella doesn't understand. Bella refuses to understand. Bella _so_ refuses to understand, that she calls me _good._ Yes. Me: good.

So now I will tell you why Bella is wrong, and I will show you.

But you have to understand, I am telling you and showing you, and, as a human, you experience this showing and telling as a story, as a thing outside yourself, and you use time to put boundaries around the experience, you say, 'oh, that happened back in 2001,' or 'oh, that happened back in 1933,' as if that experience is now safely boxed away and no longer can affect you.

This, in fact, may be the case for you. You are human, you are not a dead, eternal creature of stone and thirst.

But for me, this is not so. I am holding my Bella in my arms in this now. But for me, I am ever present to everything that has occurred up to this now. _Everything._

Do you understand me? _Everything._

And Bella, that sweet little human in time, so oblivious, she so tenderly begged me to go out and hunt tonight, didn't she? And I, that stone, cold, dead vampire, so forcefully begged to stay here and keep her in my arms now, didn't I?

Of the two of us, I think Bella is wiser.

Because understand this about me.

_I'm thirsty._

_God!_ I'm so thirsty, all the time, and especially around Bella, especially now since I haven't hunted in a while, and, yes, I do have to hold my Bella to me, because my thirst is multidimensional, my dear human reader trying to understand what it is to be a vampire. I thirst for her blood, obviously, but her, in my arms?

I cannot hold my Bella to me enough. Every second I'm away from her is agony; every second she's in my arms is ... agony.

Because when I hold her to me, I want to hold her to me ... _harder._ When I kiss her, I want to kiss her ... _harder._ When I fuck her, when my pussy rubs against her sweet little kitty so gently, so softy, so wetly, I want to fuck her ... _harder!_

Because I am in eternity, but she is now in time, and this second, right now, is the last second I may be holding her. She's _mortal._ Do you understand me? She could be just being herself, distracted by thoughts of her homework or the American Lit project that she may or may not (so she thinks) take on, not even realizing she's crossing the street, and then some smart little college boy showing off to his girlfriend will take her out for a spin in his Z-28 and there they could be blowing right through the light that he will later swear up and down on a stack of Bibles was 'orange' and ...

And then my Bella is no more.

And that is what is so present to me. I am holding her in my arms right now, one hand splayed open across her back, the other cupping her little breast, and, right now in this eternity, her mangled body in its casket could be being lowered six feet into the ground, me, looking on helpless because she distractedly crossed the street on a day that I'm out hunting.

On a day that I'm out hunting so that I don't kill her.

Because, right now, right this second?

_I am in agony!_

That lavender and freesia scent of hers? I'm breathing that in, and each molecule of it, of her?

They are going down my parched throat, each molecule, a sharpened razor blade, slicing, scoring, scarring.

_Oh, Rosalie, _you say, _your throat is parched? Swallow._

Mistake. Big mistake. I don't have mucus in my mouth, I have venom. Do you know what swallowing venom is like? As a vampire that is? It's like swallowing acid; it's like swallowing molten lead; it's like swallowing boiling oil, spiced with crushed cayenne pepper seeds.

No, swallowing venom makes the _burn worse!_ The only thing — _the only thing!_ — that will ease the agony is her blood coursing through her veins, her blood cascading down my throat in big greedy needy gulps.

_Her blood._

_Her blood. Herbloodherbloodherblood!_

You have to understand me. _I love her._ I love her, and this, too, is my thirst. My love is a demanding, jealous, needy thing. I love her, and I _need_ to love her, every second of every day, and I need her love_. I need her love._

Am I drinking her in? No, of course not, if I were to drain her, it would be her end, and my own, as well, as I killed the only thing that keeps me existing moment to moment.

But, yes, I am afraid that I am. I'm drinking in her heat through my hands and legs and body as I press myself against her 'Rosalie-wear.' I'm drinking in her scent through my nose, right down my throat. I'm drinking in her very _being_ as I love her and be with her in her sleep and in her wakefulness.

Do you not understand this? Every second I'm with her, I'm sucking away her _life;_ I'm sucking _her _into right into me.

Bella doesn't understand this. If she understood this, she would run from me screaming; she would run away from me ... for her life.

She wouldn't be staying with me. She wouldn't be asking me to stay with her. She wouldn't be saying to me: 'Rosalie, you are _good!'_

Bella doesn't understand.

And you don't either.

But now I will tell you, and now, if you dare: be me. Be me, and understand. Be me, now, holding Bella.

And be me, now, in 2001 our first week, living with the Denali coven.

And, if you are me, then, you will ... well, you will see.

And then, seeing them, as they are, exactly as they are, then, seeing how utterly evil they are...

Then be me, now, in 1933, holding my beloved in my arms.

Evil? You think the Denali sisters are evil? Honey, you don't know evil.

Be me, and know evil.

* * *

**Authoress warning:** From here on out, sweeties, it gets really, really bad.


	6. Denali Hunt

**Chapter summary: **'Let's us girls go on a hunt,' says Tanya being, all chummy. Three things: I'm not chummy, don't tell me what to do, and I hunt ALONE. Why? None of your God-damn business! That's why!

**Setting:** Talkeetna, Alaska, 2001. Tuesday, June 12, 2001. A lovely summer day, 60°F, zero visibility ... for humans.

* * *

_'Welcome to Denali,'_ Irina had said, greeting us with a large, happy, knowing smile; us, the now-designated Olympian coven, at the entranceway to the Denali lodge.

And it wasn't what she said, or how she said it, it was ... _her._

Irina of the Denali coven, the oldest, largest, most powerful coven after the Volturi.

And one inescapable fact floating between us standing outside their lodge and her at the doorway was this: her eyes were red.

Blood red.

And she was ... ecstatic ... euphoric.

And, of course, condescending.

And we all looked between ourselves, the 'Cullen family,' and it was writ large on all our faces: had the Denali coven 'backslid'? Had they reneged on their vow of abstinence? Their coven had been the first abstainers and the longest ones, not counting Carlisle, because he wasn't a coven until 'merely recently' these last seventy years.

We heard and smelled Tanya approach the entrance, and then saw her hand on Irina's shoulder. It was an affectionate hand, a loving one, a sisterly one, and ... the hand of a leader.

Then Tanya herself came into view.

Yellow and silver. This is Tanya. Her curly strawberry blond locks crowned her pale white face, and she wore a shimmering sleeveless silver cocktail dress of straight and simple lines and heels that screamed elegance, good taste and breathed 'money' and at the same time the whole package, Tanya in her ensemble, gave meaning to the term 'killer blond.'

But the only feature of concern to all of us in the Cullen coven was the color of her eyes.

Golden.

A tension in all of us that we were not aware we had visibly eased.

Irina's smile widened as she gloried in the chaos she had just created.

_'Irina, thank you,'_ Tanya said kindly and firmly, then she turned to us all, her eyes taking us all in, and working, very hard to flick casually onto, then quickly off of, Edward.

_'Welcome,'_ she said warmly, then waving to her home, _'please do come in.'_

...

_'What do you say to a hunt?'_ Tanya suggested solicitously. _'You look a bit thirsty, and I'm sure you all would like to freshen up after the long journey across the country ...'_

We all looked at each other, uncertainly, and the boys started pairing off with the girls, which left the Denali sisters in their own little group. Both Kate and Irina looked to Tanya.

Tanya was frowning.

_'How are we ever going to be reacquainted with each other if we stay in our own separate groups?'_ she offered gently, but her displeasure was evident. _'Why don't we mix it up a bit, shall we? Might I suggest the men hunt in one group and the women in another?'_

After the strained pleasantries of reintroduction, Tanya's asserting herself, as she had every right to do as the hostess, but ...

Alice was looking abstracted, and Edward, intense.

The rest of us looked to Carlisle.

The tension had returned to the large den where we all sat.

_'Oh, please,'_ Tanya urged lightly, _'what is everybody being so cautious about? We are one big happy family, after all, aren't we?'_

She spoke this directly to Carlisle.

After a briefest of thoughtful pauses, Carlisle acquiesced. _'Of course,'_ he said diplomatically, nodding toward Tanya.

Tanya smiled.

_'Actually ...'_ came Carmen's hesitant voice.

All eyes turned to her, and she smiled warmly at us. She looked to Eleazar, speaking to him in that silent way wives talk with their husbands, then continued, _'I've only just hunted, and I did wish to continue working on the plans for my exhibition room and ...'_

Carmen smiled again, apologetically, then addressed Tanya, _'If I may bow out ...?'_

_'Certainly, Carmen,'_ Tanya said, then added as an afterthought, _'there's no need for you to ask.'_

Esme spoke up. _'May I join you, Carmen? I'd like to see what you are doing with your plans.'_

Esme spoke to Carmen, but as with anything she says, it somehow included Carlisle.

Carlisle looked from Esme to Carmen to Eleazar to Tanya and back to Esme.

It would have been a fascinating study in leadership dynamics, seeing how Carlisle, head of the Cullen family, husband and guest of the Denali coven played all these to come to what he thought was best to say or to do.

That is ... it would have been fascinating, if I cared. I didn't, so these machinations and maneuverings seemed all very tiresome. _Ooh!_ I thought, _two big covens, oh-so-careful around each other not to piss anybody off, so nobody does anything!_

Carlisle eventually offered, _'Would you like us to stay here with you?'_

Carlisle's 'us.' It was an ever fluid term but something integral to him, because for Carlisle there was no such thing as 'I.' From the beginning of my existence, he was always part of something larger: be it the hospital staff, or himself and Esme, or 'father' to 'us kids' (although he would never say nor think anything so disrespectful).

In this case, his 'us' was himself and the tacitly included Eleazar.

Esme looked to Carmen, who smiled. _'No, no,' _she said, _'why don't you gentlemen go hunting with the boys? Let Esme and I have our girl-time.'_

Eleazar smiled. _'It'd be good to be in the company of men for a change.'_

_'Cool!'_ Emmett enthused, _'we can play a pick-up game of football! I'll go get the pig-skin from the Wrangler!'_

And in a flash Emmett was gone.

Eleazar looked to us in confusion. _'"Pig" ... "skin"? What does that have to do with futbal?'_

Edward's intensity broke, just a little bit, into a knowing smile.

_'Eleazar,' _he said, _'we're going to get along just fine.'_ Then he turned to Tanya. _'And, yes, I got the message.'_

The men exited, but Jasper uneasily. _'What message?' _he asked Edward, who only shook his head in response. Jasper, as he left, looked to Alice in concern. Alice mouthed an _'It's okay'_ to him, but that seemed only slightly to allay his fears.

_'Well,'_ Tanya said, looking to us, then to Carmen and Esme, _'we'll be going then.'_

The three Denali sisters filed out first, that is, politely, and Alice and I followed.

Tanya stood in the clearing, looking toward Mount McKinley.

_'The men went that way,'_ she stated this fact. She turned around decisively, facing south, and put the mountain toward her back. _'Let's go this way, shall we? We can have our own girl-time after our hunt and do some catching up since last we met. Is that okay?'_

Alice and I regarded each other. It wasn't really a question, and I didn't like the ease in which Tanya seemed to think she could push us around.

I could feel that I'd have to put my foot down with her sometime.

Alice turned back to Tanya and smiled. _'Sure,'_ she said with forced easiness, _'it sounds like fun!'_

It was so hard to repress my snort. 'Fun' with succumbae, or glorified vampire-harlots? That would be the day.

In retrospect, I didn't know, thinking that, how wrong I was ... or how right.

...

We stopped at an obliging field some distance from a herd.

_'Sheep?' _Irina shook her head in disbelief.

Tanya shrugged.

_'Sheep.'_ Irina repeated in disgust, then she said. _'How lovely. Well, you all enjoy yourselves ... I'm not that thirsty, but I am ... __hungry__.'_

She looked longingly toward the town of Talkeetna, made a decision, and marched resolutely in that direction.

_'Irina,'_ Tanya called quietly.

Irina didn't look back.

_'Irina!'_ Tanya barked.

That brought Irina up short. She stopped and turned looking at us with open hostility. _'What!' _she shouted back.

Tanya pressed her lips together with concern.

_'Well, WHAT?'_ Irina demanded impatiently.

_'You're not going to ...'_ Tanya paused, looked away, then looked back at Irina, _'you're not going to kill someone so close to home, are you?'_

_'Of course not!'_ Irina shouted in frustration. Then her face became furious. _'I mean, I don't know, okay, Tanya? I don't know!'_

Then she turned right back to the town, but we heard her very clear mutter, _'... that's what I'm going to find out right now.'_

Tanya and Kate shared a concerned look, then Tanya looked toward Alice and me.

Tanya waved resignedly to the herd of sheep. _'Shall we ...?'_

_'No,'_ I said, then clarified, _'you three go ahead. I hunt alone.'_

Tanya looked at me, perplexed. She didn't get it. _'But I thought we all could ...'_

I stared at Tanya and repeated my last phrase slowly and clearly, trying to retain a detached calm, but I felt the anger in me building a head of steam and boiling over. Couldn't she take a hint?

_'I,'_ I said resolutely, _'hunt,' _then almost shouted, _'ALONE!'_

I supposed I did shout the last word, for several crows cried out to each other and a sheep playing guard looked in our direction. The herd moved a bit nervously away from the sound.

Alice was shaking her head to Tanya, making rapid placating motions with her hand.

_'Oh,'_ Tanya relented, her voice colored with disappointment, _'... okay.'_

She tried to make it sound cheerful, as if she were used to not having things go her way and that having two uptight pushy antagonistic blonds dispute her plans all in one day was the most normal occurrence in the world.

_'Well,'_ she continued, _'is it all right if we regroup here afterward, so we can catch up on the last half-century? Get to know each other again? After all, we're going to be living together as family for the next few years, so I thought it would be nice if we could do this.'_

I was rather pleased with my patience that I didn't cut her off during her little let's-be-friends diplomatic speech.

_'Yes, fine,'_ I said curtly, and turned away from the town and from that stupid herd of sheep, and dove into the forest.

It didn't take long to catch a musky scent, and arising from a little fenced-in graveyard by an old decrepit abandoned shack a mountain of fur rose.

A moose. Perfect.

It lowered its head and charged me.

_Bring it!_ I thought gleefully and leapt toward it, 'talons' and 'fangs' extended for the kill.

A half-a-ton moose. It had a lot of blood.

A lot.

I drained it dry in 'no time' ... its hooves helplessly tearing up the terrain as its bellowed death knell rang through the forest.

I dropped its empty carcass to the ground. I was _so full!_ But, it being animal blood, it felt like I was so full of ... excrement, so I had that incomplete feeling of engorging myself with what I'm not supposed to be drinking, like drinking 'piss-beer' that's three-quarters urine.

Yes, it was disgusting ... as it is for every hunt.

And, as it is for every hunt, I was filled with the thrill of the kill, and a ... need, a new, pressing need.

I looked around cautiously, making sure there were no signs of observation from human or vampire eyes.

Furtively I went to a deeper thicken in the forest, removed all my clothes, folding them neatly and placing them on a mossy rock, and then I clasped my hands to myself, closed my eyes, and I ... satisfied my need.

Several times. It had been a couple of weeks since my last hunt, and my need was rather ... demanding, and required more than a few times to be satiated.

_'Oh, God!' _I sighed, coming down from the high ...

... into despondency. I reopened my eyes, removed my hands from myself, got dressed quickly as I constantly scanned the area for anyone catching me in my shame.

No signs of anything. I composed myself as best as I could and headed back to the rendezvous so 'all us girls' could all play 'catch-up.'

Joy.

* * *

**Chapter end notes:**

[1] Of course, 'football' is 'football.' Sigh. Why am I, a girl of absolutely no sports background (I didn't even play softball! ... see my tirade in the endnotes of ch 7 of my story "Our First Time"), having to explain this? I mean, when people ask me, 'Did you see the World Cup this year?' I wonder if they mean the cup from which Thor was tested to drink down the world's oceans. See, that's how far I am from this stuff, okay?

Okay, so there's 'football/futbal/soccer' of the _Fever Pitch_ variety (the original movie and book) where some dudes kick around a ball with the express point of _not_ getting a goal (because if somebody does score, there's riots and the police get involved, shutting down the town) or perhaps it's to see how many glasses of Guinness your Irish date can down in one game, then there's 'Straliyan football and rugby football, and that's a wee bit closer (except they appear not to have any rules whatsoever (except, 'make the other guy eat your cleats') nor time outs) and then there's American Football, à la Superbowl and (more importantly) the (no kidding) billion dollar commercials. See, that's the game I'm talking about, because the goal of that game is obvious: men, grinding into men, patting each other's butts and then chest thumping (themselves and others), then dousing their coach with the gatorade cooler.

Amirite?

So, Eleazar, being Castilian [Spanish], totally got the _wrong game!_ when he said 'futbal.' It's not 'soccer,' silly, it's 'Merkan butt-pattin' mud-rollin' half-time-jewel-encrusted-nipple-showin' _(um, what?)_ football, played with the 'ball that don't bounce straight.'

Hm. So if football is played with a ball that doesn't bounce straight (as it is affectionately described by pro-players, I kid you not), then ... hehehe ... is it ... _gaie?_

I now see all that butt-patting in a whole new light.

[2] It is polite for a vampire to proceed you. A vampire becomes very nervous and anxious when it is followed, so the Denali sisters leaving the house first gave Rosalie and Alice the space to leave the house without fear of being pounced on from behind. Yes, they are 'family' but it is still an instinctual fear of a vampire to be attacked, and being followed only increases the insecurity, family or no.

[3] As this story is based from _Rose Read_ by Jocelyn Torrent (it's linked in my favorite stories list), if you have any concerns about why Rosalie may need to satisfy herself after her hunt, given that Emmett and her are still together, please read chapter 5 ("Pillow Talk") of her story to clear things up ... or raise more questions ... it's a very sad, sweet, ambiguous chapter in her story.

[4] Rosalie views her masturbation as shameful. She grew up in the 1930s and such activities were 'taboo' and 'dirty.' She still feels this way. I explore her thoughts on this in my story _The Bells are Ringing, _ch 6 ("Games Children Play").

[5] 'phfina, cut the bullshit. Um, what do you mean? I mean, yeah, yeah, Rosalie's ashamed she masturbates, so what? Um, yeah? So, do you masturbate? Oh, God, now I see where you're going with this ... look I already wrote _Rosalie and Me, _so can we just ... No, answer the question now, 'phfina. *sigh* Yes, of course I masturbate. Ashamed, much? Yeah. Every time? Yeah. But you weren't raised in the 1930s, were you? No, I wasn't. So it may be more than just an issue with girls raised in the 30s then, right? Perhaps it's an issue you need to look at for yourself, too? Yeah, thanks. 'Yeah, thanks'? That's just great, so when are you going out again? Tonight. Promise? Yes. Good for you, little panther, and don't forget your wand, okay? Okay, thanks.

Yeah, my little voice nagging me again, but I guess she does have a point. But I'm not quite sure how to articulate it well, or even if I'm getting what she's saying to me, but, this time I will take her advice, so I'm going out tonight, girls, and I promise-promise-promise, again, to get to responding to your PMs and reviews, okay?


	7. Irina

**Chapter summary:** You know the funny thing about Irina? She thought she was being nice to me. She's a complete ass, but she made a real effort to say something 'nice' to me. And that just worked so well, didn't it? We're such buddies now! ... Please!

* * *

I reemerged from the forest, freshened up and ... refreshed. They all had regrouped and were in a loose circle, taking their ease, basking the glow of a 'satifactory' (?) hunt on a herd of sheep.

And Irina was there, too. And she was just glowing.

_'Well, hello, there, stranger,'_ she called out easily in a voice that was simultaneously chummy and superior, and very, very relaxed. She looked me up and down and then asked, _'Satisfied from your own little hunt?'_

_'Yes,'_ I said companionably, _'I got a moose.'_

I couldn't help but notice something odd about her eyes; they were still just as red as earlier today, but they had a silvery tint in the redness. They weren't pink, they were vivid red, but also, at the same time, silvery, as if her she were wearing two sets of contacts, one red and one silver, and the colors didn't mix at all, but were each distinct and fully present in her eyes.

_'Oh,'_ she replied sarcastically and lazily, _'I didn't mean in __that way__ ...'_

And then she sniggered.

I felt myself stiffen, and I saw red.

_'What?'_ I demanded coldly.

At the same time, Tanya rebuked her sister's impertinence. _'Irina!'_ she chided.

_'What?'_ Irina exclaimed hotly. _'It's nothing to be ashamed about anymore! It's a new millennium again, and finally sexual repression is on the outs and sexual satisfaction is back in. And I have to say this: it's about time! Rosalie, here,' — _she waved at me indolently — _'got herself a little satisfaction, and I say, good for her.'_

Then she turned to me, and addressed me directly, _'Good for you!'_

I narrowed my eyes at her, but decided to keep my cool ... barely. I couldn't stand this _fucking bitch!_

Surprisingly, my unmasked feelings seemed not to infuriate Irina, but to excite her.

_'Oh, God!'_ she exclaimed. _'All that built-up sexual repression still, even after your release! It's writ large all over you; none of us can miss it!' _She looked at me, _'The ardeur I feel now, Rosalie, mmth!'_

For one second two things happened together, I felt a pull toward her, as if I were being drawn into her, as if my being were leaving me, my body, and being absorbed into her, and I was confused by a strong desire ... for her, of all people, and then also I saw that her eyes began to glow with a silver fire.

_'God!'_ she whispered reverently, _'your essence is just so wonderfully compelling!'_

Tanya snarled, _'Irina!'_

Irina smiled evilly, and just as suddenly as I felt the pull that drew me toward her, I felt it recede and go away, and I felt myself in myself again, and there we were, Irina, looking at me with an undisguised lust and me looking at her in utter confusion.

I hate her; I can't stand her. Why had I just wanted her?

_'Tanya!'_ Irina shot back impishly, but then she became thoughtful as she regarded me. _'But it makes me wonder why you have such a tight hold over your mate. I mean, if you have to satisfy yourself after a hunt ... well, isn't that what's he's for?'_

I glared at her stonily.

_'I mean, fingers and imagination are all well and good, but isn't that rather unfulfilling? I mean, really! I like a man's body pressed against me, and a stiff cock giving my cunt a good, hard fucking ... just like I got from that little boy now.'_ Irina sighed contently, then added, _'The thing I like about the young ones is how quickly they're ready to go again.'_ She smiled at us all. _'Four times in one hour? Now that's what I call a satisfactory fucking!'_

Alice gasped. _'How young?'_

Irina looked at Alice condescendingly and snorted. _'As if that mattered!'_ She looked around then rolled her eyes. _'Look, he wasn't Lucas' age, okay? He was just some junior or senior high school student Ferris Buellering it, and he was already working himself up when I passed by his bedroom window ... well, so I so thoroughly gave him everything that he was so ready for ... and more.'_

She became wistful and sighed. _'He had that cute Bulgarian look, with those big brown eyes of his and his brown curly hair. He reminded me a bit of home ...'_

She looked round to us. _'Well,'_ she said, recollecting herself, _'it was very nice. And did that fuck ever wear him out! I put him under and gave him the best fuck of his short, little human life.'_

Tanya cut in, quickly, _'Short, but at present still ongoing?'_

Irina looked furiously at Tanya. _'What?'_ she demanded, _'Do you want to check? Go right ahead!'_

She waved angrily toward the town of Talkeetna.

_'No, Irina'_ Tanya replied quietly, _'I just want you to tell me. I believe what you tell me, sister: I always have and I always will.'_

Irina looked stunned for a second. She looked away, deeply affected by Tanya's words.

_'When I left him, he was alive and kicking ... well, sleeping, actually.'_ Irina whispered.

_'Good,'_ said a relieved Tanya.

_'Yes, just great,'_ Irina hissed, then repeated regretfully: _'Just great.'_

It was quiet for a moment, then Alice ventured a shy, _'Irina?'_

Irina glared at Alice, but Alice really is fearless.

Alice continued: _'Why are your eyes red?'_ Then she clarified. _'Did you meet your singer?'_

Irina's lips contorted into a frown as a disdainful snort escaped her lips.

_'No,'_ she eventually replied, _'I didn't meet my singer.'_

_'Then why ...?'_ Alice asked the open question.

Irina looked at us. _'Look at us,'_ she commanded angrily, _'what is the commonality we all share, really? We are __vampires__, for goodness sake. We aren't supposed to be drinking that shit!'_ Irina waved angrily at where the herd of sheep had scattered from the hunt in terror.

_'Humans are our sheep,'_ she muttered angrily, _'and we should be feasting on them! And not following some stupid idea from a leader of a coven. "Oh, Kate, Irina, I have a great idea! Let's abstain! What do you say?"'_

Irina snorted angrily. _'Or what do you Cullens call it? "Vegetarianism"?'_

Irina's laughter at the term was an angry and dismissive bark.

I stared at Irina, and my anger heated around several ignition points. How dare she laugh at us? But what really enflamed me was this.

_'I'm not a Cullen,'_ I corrected her coolly. _'I'm a Hale.'_

Irina regarded me disdainfully. _'You newborns! So attached to your family names. You're in the Cullen coven, you are a Cullen. I'm in the Denali coven, I'm a "Denali." So we go by whatever name we choose for this crop of humans, which is what, again, Tanya?'_

_'Movsesian,'_ Tanya said.

Irina grinned. _'Of course, Tanya, it would be a name from chess, wouldn't it? You see, last names don't have any significance at all to us. Put another thousand years to your existence, newborn, and you'll find yourself shedding your last name, too.'_

_'Excuse me,' _I said coldly. _'Two things, my name is the only thing I've taken with me into this existence, and I'll be keeping it and I'll thank you to address me __correctly__. And secondly, I am not to be patronized. I have existed as a vampire for almost seventy years; I acknowledge your experience, and I expect you to acknowledge mine.'_

Irina looked at me condescendingly, then turned to her sisters. _'Seventy years, she says. That's almost as long as we were held by the Volturi, wasn't it, Tanya?'_

Tanya grimaced with displeasure, perhaps at her sister, perhaps at the mention of the Volturi, perhaps both.

But it was Kate's reaction that caught my attention. She flinched_._

Irina turned back to us. _'Seventy years? That's just a sliver of our existence. A sliver! We are the only coven brought to Volterra as prisoners to exit as something other than a pile of ashes to be exiled here in this desolate and unpopulated wasteland and make it work. Now, what experiences of yours am I supposed to acknowledge? Answer me that after your little coven has a run-in with the Volturi and then survives to tell me. That will be a first in my experience. Well, first after us, of course. Do you know how many covens I've seen destroyed by their might? And which one has continued through all their purges? Ours.'_

I glared my hatred at her. _Just you wait!_ I hissed to myself.

But I had nothing to say to her taunting words, because she was right. Her coven had survived so much, and what had ours done? Nothing.

Was that bad? No. That's what we are supposed to be and to do: be invisible and do nothing to cause a stir. But was that an effective riposte?

So I just glared. _'Irina "Movsesian,"' _I hissed, _'It's Rosale Hale, not "newborn."'_

Irina rolled her eyes. _'What__ever__,'_ she murmured sarcastically.

_'But I thought ...'_ Alice interceded, changing the topic, and pushed forward into Irina's angry glare. _'Why did you disparage the offer of ... well, vegetarianism? I thought you didn't kill people because you love them.'_

Irina snorted incredulously.

Alice pressed. _'That's what Tanya said, you actually love people.'_

Here Irina snorted: _'People? Love them?'_ she asked incredulously, then added: _'I never have, and I never will.'_ She looked away from us, then whispered: _'I hate people. Every last one of them. I hate them all.'_

Both Alice and I gave her incredulous looks. But if I were honest with myself — which, all too unfortunately for me, I always am — my look was more a matter of form. I found myself having more in common with Irina than I thought I ever would.

_'If you hate people,'_ Alice asked quietly, _'isn't it hard to ... well, not kill them ...'_ then Alice looked at Irina's red eyes and added quickly, _'... all the time, that is?'_

Irina looked at Alice as if she were the stupidest person in the world and smiled indulgently. _'Why do you think I went into to town just now? To find out precisely that.'_

After a moment's pause, Irina said, _'No, it's ...'_

She paused for a second then looked at Alice and me.

_'You don't know what a succubus is, do you?'_ She shook her head. _'You have no idea at all.'_

Irina looked to Tanya. Tanya nodded. It looked like Tanya was giving permission to Irina.

Irina's smile turned bitter.

She addressed again. _'You think vampires are the top of the food chain, don't you? "Oh, we're vampires, so we can afford to be magnanimous or impetuous because nothing can touch us."'_

She paused and looked away. _'You're wrong.'_ Then she looked back at us. _'You think vampires just feed and can't be fed upon, and for except us three ...'_ — her wave encompassed herself and her sisters — _'... you'd be correct. But we are here, and we are succubae, and we are vampires, yes, and we do thirst — God, do we thirst! — but we have something else, we have the ardeur, the hunger.'_

She looked at us, then looked at me. _'And our sustenance is not only blood, but we also must feed ourselves another way, and that is on sexual energy, and vampires have that aplenty, don't they, my dear cousins, hm?'_

She looked at me, but then she also looked at Alice and smiled. Alice looked away after a second, embarrassed.

Irina continued, _'And vampires can destroy vampires in battle, yes? You're powerful warrior Jasper has the war-wounds to prove it, but that is __nothing__ to the power of a succubus when she has you under her spell, and once the ardeur seizes us, and you are enraptured, nothing can save you ...'_

Then Irina stopped and looked down at her hands, and whispered, _'... unless we stop ourselves.'_

_'And that's what you did in town?'_ Alice asked, _'You went to see if you could stop yourself?'_

Irina shook her head in disappointment. _'You still don't get it. It's a need, an unstoppable need, when I'm consumed by the ardeur, nothing can stop me, and there was only one end for that little, well, not so little, boy, when he was rutting and rammed me with his hard cock over and over again and then when I felt his hot seed in me, there was only one thing to follow, my teeth ripping into his neck and his blood coursing into me.'_

_'That's the only possible ending to a good fucking like that.'_ She looked at us then at Alice. _'You know that, don't you, Alice, when your Jasper is ramming into you and you are coming your brains out and the only thing holding you together is his powerful arms and his dick thrusting into you, you can't help but bite down into him, can you? You are a little biter, aren't you?'_

Alice wouldn't answer.

_'Thought so!' _Irina nodded._ 'I've seen that some of those battle scars on Jasper are rather recent.'_

Then she continued. _'I know it's a stretch for you, but imagine fucking a human, having those feelings, and, I mean no disrespect, but you are just vampires. He's fucking you with all his frail human might, and then he groans and fills you, and collapses on top of you, and his scent is just right there, and his neck, as he pants more of that scent into the air all around you, is just right there, you lips resting on his neck, and you can feel his strong pulse pumped by the thudding of his overworked heart, and what's the only thing you can do?'_

She looked at us knowingly. She didn't know anything about me, that her frank description of intercourse repulsed me, but even if she didn't know that, she knew the effect of her words of the post-coital moment would have on any vampire.

I had had a half-ton moose, but my mouth was swimming in venom. I swallowed hard. Alice actually gasped a bit, and her valencia scent billowed out of her own mouth, also awash in her own venom.

But having intercourse with a human? _Impossible!_ I thought dismissively. How could it work? But even beyond that, why would one ever engage in relations with humans? It was comparable to having a relationship with a fruit fly, both in mental capacity and aptitude and life-span. As Irina said, it was a stretch to imagine it. An impossible stretch. There was no way a vampire would ever seek the relations of a human. After all, we, the Olympian coven — that is: the friendliest-to-humans coven in existence — moved from place to place to ensure no bond of familiarity ever materialized.

That, and then there was the intoxicating appeal of their blood, even through their pores, the scent of it was almost irresistible. Having a human place his neck on my lips? He would be dead before he knew what hit him ... well, what _bit_ him.

_'Yes,'_ Irina nodded once, _'but now be a succubus, and be just so full of his sexual energy and have him so drained from the experience that he's completely in your power. There's only one way to complete that moment. You have to drink him into you. Completely. You must.'_

Irina sighed. _'There is no stopping that need.'_

I looked at Irina and spoke to her our shared experience: _'But you were strong enough to stop yourself.'_

Irina snapped our of her reverie and regarded me coolly. _'No, I wasn't strong enough. I couldn't stop myself.'_

_'Yet he still lives?'_ I confirmed.

_'Yes,' _she answered quietly.

_'How?'_ I demanded.

Irina shrugged. _'I wasn't strong enough, but Love was.'_

Alice tilted her head to one side. _'You love him?'_

Irina chuckled. _'Well, if you call leaving him a glass of water and an apple on his bedstand for when he recovers, "love" ...'_

But then she shook her head. _'No. He's just another human, another man for my use. I don't love him.'_

_'But you do love, Irina.'_ Tanya said with certainty.

Irina smiled sadly, _'Yes, sister, I do love ... you.'_ Then she looked over at Kate and humor touched her smile, _'I even love you, you little nut.'_

Irina was quiet for a moment, then she spoke again. _'I love you, and ... I saw ... God! The blood was better than I remember it, especially after two centuries of this shit, but I saw that this would be between us, and I know what would happen; irritation would turn to distaste and then to animosity, and I had a choice. I could choose to do what we are made to do ... or I could choose you.'_

Irina fell silent.

_'Irina,'_ Tanya said, _'you know I love you no matter what. You know that.'_

Irina looked at Tanya then looked away. _'I know that. But, Tanya, you are our leader and you float above it all, and you can do that. I haven't that generous or detached nature that you have, and I felt ... Tanya, I hated you. I hated you because of just one stupid indulgence on my part and you wouldn't even ...'_

Irina paused, drawing a breath then pressed forward: _'You wouldn't even give me a cross look when I got back from Italy ...'_

_'Italy?'_ I interjected in surprise. What was she doing with the Volturi?

Irina smiled at me. 'Look around you!' she commanded, waving to the small, plain town of Talkeetna and the surrounding nondescript Alaskan wilderness. 'Have you been to Florence?' she asked. 'It's so beautiful this time of year, and Italian men? Do you know what I love about Italian men? They have no shame. I was just sitting at a corner café when a man came right up to me, threw his keys on my table, and proclaimed in broken English: "Meet me at my hotel room in ten minutes!"'

Irina's eyes became thoughtful in the reflection. _'And I did, and then ...' _She paused. _'Well, and then ... this, and I fly back, just so contented, so awash in the feeling of his blood, and then I come home, to you, Tanya, and you could see the color of my eyes through the sunglasses. Not even one cross word, and that ...'_

Irina sighed. _'I hated you so much, Tanya, because __I__ fucked up, and I knew that I had to ...'_

Irina paused, then said with conviction: _'Tanya, I know you love me, but I knew I had to make this right; I had to make me right, because I couldn't love you like this.'_

Irina passed her hand in front of her red eyes. _'I had to take care of this to be able to love you, Tanya.'_

Then she looked over at Kate, and her lips twisted into a cruel smile. _'... and even you.'_

Kate smiled back at Irina, serenely. _'And I love you, too, little sister.'_

Kate actually looked much younger than both Tanya and Irina, so her statement was rather paradoxical. Of course, she must have been turned before Irina to have made that statement.

Irina snorted. _'Of course you do, you love everything, you can't help it, can you?'_

_'But it's nice to hear you love me, Irina,'_ Kate said.

_'Why wouldn't she love you?'_ Alice asked.

Kate smiled. _'Oh, besides the fact that it's my fault they are succubae? Or the other thing?'_

We looked at serene Kate in askance.

_'I suppose it's my turn,'_ Kate said with a light gaiety.

Tanya rested her hand on Kate's shoulder. _'Kate,'_ Tanya said, _'you don't have to ...'_

_'No, Tanya,' _Kate replied. _'They are going to be with us for a while, they'll find out eventually, so it's better I tell them now, right? That's what this gathering is for, anyway? A little meeting of just us girls in a safe place, away from the boys and their silly comments, right?'_

Kate looked to Tanya for confirmation.

Alice eyebrows came together. _'Tell us what, Kate?'_

Kate smiled at us and said calmly, _'That I'm mad.'_

Alice and I exchanged confused looks.

It was Irina who leaned in conspiratorially and offered clarification in _soto voce:_ _'... as a hatter!'_

Irina whispered these words almost gleefully. She leaned back

_'You think I'm bad for this?' _She waved her blood-red eyes. _'At least I haven't done it to my own.'_

She looked over to Kate.

_'Go ahead, Kate,'_ Irina said, pleased as punch, _'tell them.'_

* * *

**Chapter end notes:**

[1] I think the best story about the Denali sisters is _Fair Game_ by Eowyn77, but I only know of one story that talks about Irina canonically at all, and that's geophf's _Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird._ She gets her own chapter and everything!

[2] The concept of _ardeur_ is that succubae feed on sexual energy as well as blood. This has come up in several stories in fandom, the most explicit ones are ones that revolve around the Denali coven, so, of course there's bb's _Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird_ and the one that is really explicit about what it does and how it works is the story _Pomme de Sange_ by destileotie. I believe in that story the silvery eyes are explained. It's either there or in bb's _Thirteen Ways._

[3] Lilly and Lucas are a creation of runaway-xo from her story _Alaska_ and one-shot sequel _Lilly and Lucas._ My bb geophf has included them into his canon of _Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird,_ and, well, he's cast a spell on me, and I've fallen in love with the idea of them ... another one-shot coming, 'pfhina ... sigh, maybe someday. At any rate, Lilly is eternally 15 years old. And, at 2001, Lucas is 13 years old. So this end note is a round-about way of say that Irina was saying she wasn't bedding a thirteen year old.

[4] to 'Ferris Bueller', v.: to skip high school in order to goof off. See the movie _Ferris Bueller's Day Off_ for the definition in action. Actually, that movie has a bit of a bittersweet ending for a 'goof-ball teen movie.'

[5] Irina is very cavalier about her family name. Most vampires are, but the Denali sisters are special in this disregard, because one thousand years ago, family names hadn't come into existence yet. You notice that the Olympia coven is called the Cullens (no matter how much Rosalie hates that, it is still the case), but the Denali sisters are just the Denali sister? That's because Tanya, Kate and Irina don't have last names, they don't now and they didn't when they were humans.

[6] Sergei Movsesian is a chess Grand Master from Slovakia. Tanya has a fondness for chess. In fact, she's the only being that can beat Edward at chess, she's so good at it. Read Eowyn77's _Fair Game_ to see how she turned chess into her tool of seduction to capture Edward's heart. She almost won that game, too. Almost.

[7] "Having a human place his neck on my lips? He would be dead before he knew what hit him ... well, what _bit_ him." ... or _her_ as the case may be, as in _Our First Time, _ch 8 ('Bug Bites'). And Bella's been getting some serious neckage from that Edward in _Eclipse_ and_ Breaking Dawn, _so what's the problem again? (*rolls eyes*)

[8] 'Mad as a hatter' is not a cliché. It's a stereotype. Back in the day people who made hats ('Hatters') used chemicals, particularly mercury, in their work. Mercury is a neurotoxin — like, _ta-dah! _venom — so the longer they were in their trade the more traits would show up: shaking, rages.

[9] What is written in this chapter is just the tip of the iceberg, my dears. And Irina's fall from grace has me thinking of a new one-shot after Bella's 'rebirth' called _Bloodbuzz_ based off the eponymous song by The National (Yes, another one-shot. I'm sorry, Condor, okay? _I'm sorry!). _But that's neither here nor there. What is here — or more correctly, what _wasn't _here in the chapter was this. Yes, Rosalie gets offended at Irina's compliment of her 'liberation' but I excised this bit:

"getting into a fight with her over what she saw as a compliment? Not a very auspicious start to a visit with the Denali coven that would be going on for years. Years of acrimony because the bitches from either coven got into a pissing fight?

Two things: firstly, it wouldn't matter who had started it (she did), and secondly, they would blame me for it all anyway, as they always do.

And the third thing of two things (that will hit you sometime later today), is that I know Irina's type: if you leave her long enough to her own devices, she eventually starts talking about herself. But if I agreed with her (excuse me? like I ever would with that ... person) or disagreed, that would be the impetus for her to go on and on about this odious topic.

_'Take me, for example,' _she continued.

See? It works. I say nothing, so she moves onto her favorite topic: herself."

I couldn't make this fragment fit. It's also proving a point, and that point is this [excised] end note:

"Ever notice that, my dears? Girlfriend X (or ex-girlfriend, as the case may be) mentions something that sets you off, and instead of just letting it go, you have to say, 'Oh, no, that's not true at all!' or '[*rolls eyes*] okay, whatevs, babes!' and then what happens? The next three hours is her hammering (and yammering) away at that topic. My killer-blond gf Becca had this to say when her bro was freaking out about something their mother said and he asked Becca why she wasn't freaking out, too. Her answer was: 'I had my upset button surgically removed.'

Removing the upset button? That may be more powerful than my magic wand!"

But I can't ask Rosalie and Irina to behave a certain way so I can just prove a point. The conversation veered this way, but then it veered away from this way and as much as I tried to make them go into this particular scenario I couldn't force the fit. Or, actually, I _could_ _force _it, but when I do force people everybody's unhappy about it, particularly me, so I just let it be.

**SPCA disclaimer:** No, um, mooses — 'meese'? *sigh*: _moosen!_ — inebriated or sober, were harmed during the production of this chapter of _Monsters. _

And while we're at it, no sheep, be they named Flossy or Shaun, were harmed either. And, oh, we're talking about wild beasts, right? The high school boy was unharmed, too. Wait. _'Unharmed'?_ I think he rather _LIKED IT!_


End file.
